


Pawns

by voidlink



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Aristocracy, BDSM, Black Rose, Bondage, Conspiracies and plots, F/F, F/M, Female on Male Rape, Femdom, Male on female rape, Maledom, Multi, Noxus, Plot, Rape, Torture, black magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidlink/pseuds/voidlink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vayne hunts Vladimir and ends up with more than she bargained for. She loses her freedom, but becomes involved in the secret cabal which pulls the strings of Noxian politics. Lore-wise, the story attempts to speculate how Vayne came to investigate the Black rose.</p><p> ---------10/07/2016 - added a new smut scene to ch8---------</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Although spectacular and entertaining, the League was little more than great training grounds for its champions; every game was ran under rules too strict for anyone to do all they were capable of. How else could the refined Demacian royalty compete successfully against gods and legendary heroes? Some champions had their abilities enhanced by the magic collectively woven by the summoners of the Fields; others, however, had to only use a fraction of their power and instead rely on cunning and strategy. All in all it was one big show, too full of politics and business for Shauna Vayne to see the most her targets were capable of.

She found it frustrating to wait game after game for a chance to encounter the vilest, most corrupt filth of Runeterra on the Rift and then following their every move in a vain attempt to learn more about their power. Yet she had no other choice. How many cursed werewolves had there been through the centuries? How many hemomancers? Literature mentioned none or very few. Disgusting as they were, both Vladimir and Warwick were precious to Noxus and Zaun and the twisted states guarded their secrets well.

This is why Vayne had to break her promise to never again stalk the Summoners of the League and never steal anything from their archives. It was difficult, but possible for someone of her talents. Bribery, threats and a long night's sneaking through the Institute of War's corridors ended with her reading the one and only written record on Hemomancy in history.

It was surprisingly informative. Blood magic, or Hemomancy, was not an academic school of magic. Calling it school was also not apt- there could only ever be one Hemomancer at any given time, as mastery of the art could only be obtained through the death of one's mentor.

As she suspected, defeating a blood mage in reality was a lot harder than in the League. Vladimir had been commanded to only attack when adversaries were within a given range. In truth, a hemomancer could fully control the bloodstream of any creature within his line of sight, provided the creature had had direct contact with his blood or skin. He could, although to a smaller degree, manipulate a being with no prior contact. He could remain in the shape of a pool indefinitely; during this time, he was still capable of casting spells. With regards to killing, fire was the only way to permanently destroy a hemomancer, but poison could incapacitate and slow down regeneration.

A full cover of her face and body was necessary, she took a mental note, but not to the extent of impairing her stealth and speed. Poison was easy enough to obtain, as well as gasoline and matches, but Vayne could do better than that. In a week or two she could spend a tiny fraction of her wealth on a flamethrower.

Nevertheless, the scroll did not mention anything about Vladimir’s habits, or his place of residence. In fact, it was completely useless with regards to hunting him down. This is where Vayne’s expertise was most necessary. She had no allies and technically, she had no enemies. What she had was an innate understanding of the power balance within social structures and institutions and an almost unnatural ability to upset that balance in all the right ways. If anyone were to learn all she was capable of, they would probably describe it using lowly terms such as stalking, blackmail or bribery. But to Vayne, it was her art. It had led to the creation of the most beautiful information leaks within the Demacian spy networks and the demise of countless wicked beings, who were otherwise veiled in secrecy and political power.

One of those leaks informed the Night Hunter of Vladimir’s regular vacations in a mountain range on the border of Noxus. While the spy considered this a minor detail, Vayne could add two and two. The scroll told the story of a mountain temple where Vladimir had met his mentor. She'd be damned if this same temple was not the destination of the hemomancer's pilgrimages.

It was a few more weeks until she woke up to the message of Vladimir having departed from his mansion. She rode that very day, thrilled to hunt her target.


	2. Chapter 2

A thick mist marked the first days of autumn in the mountains. Vayne found the temple among steep marble cliffs and menacing boulders; the bones of countless men and women littered the road to it and a strange red lichen covered its tiles. The lichen had spread to the nearby boulders and was slowly climbing the face of a cliff like a red stain on the smooth marble; or like a great shadow looming over the road.

Shauna set up her ambush a mile down the road, near a clearing right out of the sparse pine forest. She blended with the shadows of the vegetation and observed the lovely view as the mountain's shadow crept upon the land, as night fell and the stars gleamed scarlet like never before; faint blue light was shining on the eastern sky when she heard steps, unmistakably human, coming from further up the road. A tall hooded figure clad in furs made its way down and stopped on the clearing to enjoy the view. The hood fell and long white hair reflected the starlight and the first rays of dawn. There was no mistake. The Hemomancer had walked right into her ambush.

Silver bolts with cyanide coating; she had already loaded her crossbow; it had stayed loaded the entire night. As soon as the hood fell a bolt pierced the morning air and sank deep into the man's neck. He looked in Vayne's direction, confused. The poor fool could not see in the dark. Realising that, the figure melted in an instant; his famous escape, the well-practiced blood pool, served to prolong his life by a few precious moments. Grabbing her flamethrower, the Hunter ran after the retreating foe, burning the clothes he'd left behind. The mage looked like a black shadow sliding over the road, crimson highlights glistening under the stars. He was fast, but Vayne had outran him many times on the Rift, and the element of surprise was on her side. As she approached the fleeing pool, she felt a pulsing headache; her nose started bleeding and her vision went dim, but with an iron grip on her senses she reached the pool of blood and blasted the flamethrower at it. Her nostrils were instantly filled with the smell of burning flesh, of copper and fire; but the pain receded and her head cleared.

He was dead or at least too weak to fight her off. She walked back to the flaming pile of furs and then back to the charred blood on the road. She concluded the Blood mage had lost a significant amount of blood, that he was either dead or barely alive, hiding in the temple or the woods below.

And yet when she entered the ancient building, Vayne was not attacked nor felt the slightest presence of magic. There were walls upon walls covered in some unknown alphabet, murals painted only by the red lichen. She decided to leave the place, unaffected by the dreadful piles of bones, but bent on returning and blowing up the foul temple with whatever explosives she could carry.

Then she walked down the mountain road, giving one final inspection to Vladimir's charred remains, collected her baggage and made her way to where her steed was left.

She found her pedigree horse lying in a pool of its own blood, surrounded by a pack of direwolves. Cursing her bad luck, Vayne retreated as the beasts raised their heads from the prey one by one and looked at her. Their yellow eyes could see perfectly in the gloomy forest and their noses could smell her from a mile away; she could not evade them the way she hid from Vladimir- she had to fight.

The first one leapt towards her; she dodged the attack with lightning reflexes and nailed the animal to a nearby tree with a single silver bolt. Another one in the face ended its misery. Vayne used the window of opportunity to start her flamethrower and blast it towards the advancing pack. But the wolves were too many and attacked from all sides; and as one reckless beast pinned her body to the ground, she had to drop the flamethrower and fire bolt after bolt while trying to evade the torrent of teeth and claws; she somehow managed to slay the beast that was attacking her and as she kicked the corpse aside, she realized that the rest of the pack had retreated.

Shauna Vayne let out a happy, relieved sigh and lied on the ground for a few moments rejoicing in her victory and the fact that she was still alive. Then she rose to her feet and looked around; there were three direwolf carcasses, one charred and two stabbed with poisoned bolts; her horse was still lying on the ground, dead as before. Her entire outer layer of clothing was torn; she discarded it quickly and proceeded to examine the falled steed.

Suddenly, a very normal and human fear overcame her - the fear of tetanus, even rabies, of whatever disease the wilderness had cursed these wolves with; noticing a single bloodstain on her hand, she frantically started rubbing at it, trying to discover and possibly disinfect the wound beneath. The shock was so powerful she focused on this entirely; and when she found no wound, she proceeded to examine the rest of her uncovered skin; she found scratches and minor bruises, and examined each one, until a movement in the corner of her view startled her.

The blood oozing from her horse's innards was now forming small streams and droplets, flowing distinctly in a direction behind her. Vayne turned around, knowing full well what she would see.

A tall male figure, nude except for her discarded clothing, which he had managed to wrap around his waist in a hurry. The Noxian stood in the pool of mixed fluids from the three wolves and the horse as if it were a stage. He was visibly furious at her, but also horribly, obnoxiously smug, knowing full well he had won.

Vayne raised her crossbow towards him.

"Please. Put this down." He whispered calmly, almost gallantly " I've touched you. It's over."

In her eyes he saw the determination to shoot anyway. And in that split second while she was preparing to shoot, her mind exploded with the most violent migraine she had ever experienced; the circulation in her limbs stopped completely and she collapsed not far from her horse, shaking with feverish chills.

She had no idea how long she laid there, trembling, cursing under her breath, but eventually the Hemomancer's rage receded and her vision cleared. Still shaking and paralyzed, she could now see him approaching her. Her own blood formed droplets and escaped through her nose, dissolving into the Crimson Reaper's pale skin.

Still filled with rage at the almost successful assassination and exalted with the sensation of absorbing her blood, Vladimir was almost certain of his intentions to drain her dry and leave. But as he looked at her small form (she was so petite; he hadn't noticed that as he fought her on the Rift) curled in a ball on the ground, suddenly so helpless and innocent, he realised he had other intentions.

Invigorated by the fresh mountain air, and the blood of the powerful beasts and the terrified virgin at his feet, he weaved a powerful incantation: his art could both damage and repair, and he repaired the horse as well as he could. The animal rose. It was braindead, but it did not take much to control a mindless horse. Vladimir lifted Shauna by the hair and whispered in her ear:

"My carriage is in the nearest village. I imagine Demacia will pay a good ransom for you."

"Fuck you."-she replied

Trying his hardest not to laugh, the mage mounted the horse and lugged her petite body over the saddle. His magic sank Vayne into a fever dream, which lasted through their entire journey to Noxus.


	3. Chapter 3

It was noon when Vayne woke up for the first time in days. She found herself in a soft bed, covered by the silkiest of sheets. It took a few minutes for the memories to flood back. Her eyes shot open, a sudden jolt of alertness causing her to examine the room she was in. It might as well have been a room in her own house, and the wilderness outside was equally unrecognisable. A large bed, well-crafted furniture, exquisite tapestry and a vase of fresh roses on the bedside table. And a note. Vayne reached for the note.

"You are safe now" the note said "The ransom has been paid. Please, make yourself at home. There is a bath in the room next door. Best wishes, Lux"

She had fought Vladimir. The mage had fled the battlefield, possessing a pack of wolves to infect her with his touch. Then he'd rendered her unconscious for an unknown amount of timer, and sold her life in exchange for a ransom? She wished to believe this, but somehow it was too good to be true, and not at all in the style of a noxian.

Judging by her bruises, about two days had passed. She stood up in one quick motion and left the room, finding herself in a small corridor. Quiet as a cat she moved from room to room absorbing every detail of the villa and listening for a sound that could betray a person's presence. Soon enough she heard a the sound of a page being turned. She moved quietly towards the sound and soon caught something more: the breathing of a man, quite young, and his barely audible heartbeat. A moment of anger caught her unguarded.

"Do you really think I'm so stupid?" She heard herself hiss

Steps, drawing closer and closer; and finally Vladimir, wearing only pajamas and a dressing gown entered the corridor. Aside from his albinism, he looked absurdly ordinary.

"It was worth trying, after you fell for the wolves trick." He explained "I need you to shower."He continued" You're smelling up the house."

"State your intentions." Even though she already had an idea

"I plan to spend the afternoon reading. However, I am cold. I would like you to keep me warm, but I would prefer if you were cleaner."

The disgust instantly reflected on her features. Vladimir felt a wave of arousal wash through him as he watched her shiver at the thought of touching him.

"Please"he added, gently, gallantly as before.

And once again, she made it very clear she had no intention of obeying. The mage sighed and raised his hand.

When Vayne woke up from the trance, she was almost completely submerged in a hot, bubbly bath, her clothes still on, as if Vladimir could not bring herself to strip her. A fresh set of simple clothing sat on a chair nearby. Realising she couldn't win, she disposed of her wet, torn and filthy clothes and bathed. Upon leaving the bath she took a moment to look at the reflection of her tight, fit body, adorned by a pair of breasts which were too full and beautiful for a Night Hunter. She shivered once again imagining Vladimir's seeing her like this, touching her or fulfilling any of his wicked fantasies. Yet it was more likely than not to happen and the best that she could do was deny him the joy of seeing her break.

Shauna dressed and continued her exploration of the villa. She hadn't gone far when she felt his calling, a mild, pulsing headache which threatened to grow stronger. She continued exploring in spite of it; until she came across the room Vladimir was in. He was sat on a velvety sofa, reading some medical textbook, a set of handwritten notes lying on the table next to him.

"Shauna" he said, visibly happy to see her. Her headache was instantly gone."Come, sit next to me. Please."

She knew full well by now what the "please" stood for and once again chose to disobey. She was paralyzed before she could react, the mage picked her up like she weighted nothing and placed her on his lap, wrapping his arm around her as he resumed reading. His hand was cupping her waist; his pale, smooth cheek was resting on her forehead. She (incorrectly, she knew) imagined his touch would be cold and slippery as that of a vampire, but his skin was as warm and soft and tender as her own. Eventually his magic started to loosen; she was more or less able to move again, although it took some effort. She tried to free herself from his grip, to which he responded by smiling and putting the book down. Wrapping both arms around her, he was now completely focused on his new toy.

Long fingers tangled in her still wet black strands, his grip tight around her small body, he left a trail of kisses down the side of her face, her neck, then travelled back up to her jawline and the corner of her mouth. He could feel the shivers of disgust running through her with every kiss. Vayne's eyes were shut in an evident effort to pretend this was not happening.

"Have you been kissed before?" He asked, running a nail along her pallid cheek. "You haven't, have you? Kiss me."

He got nothing but her firm refusal to give her first kiss to a monster.

"Am I not the Demacian Lord you dreamed of?" He said mockingly "am I not handsome enough? Not noble enough for you?"

She opened her eyes briefly, blue irises examining the mage's face. His features were as refined and chiseled as those of the fairest noble; the masculine curve of his brow and the perfectly shaped Cupid's bow most striking. Thick, snowy-white eyelashes adorned a pair of red eyes which glistened with unholy fire and foul intent.

He pressed his lips to hers. A series of movements followed, but even someone as experienced as him could only do so much when the kiss was this one-sided. He quit shortly after, and cupping her face with in his hands, he asked gently:

"Why are you fighting me? You could enjoy this."

"I'd rather kiss a dead frog." She groaned through clenched teeth

The slap that landed on her face made her ears ring. Vladimir leapt to his feet and, wrapping her long black hair around his fist, dragged the woman through the floor, mildly entertained by her pathetic attempts at crawling to match his pace.

He opened a door in a nearby room and dragged her down the stairs to a dark, chilled cellar. Bruised and bleeding, Vayne found herself on the slate flooring of a dungeon. The hemomancer lit a gas lamp, allowing her to see more of the room. Of course, she thought, every self-respecting Noxian had to have a torture chamber in his basement.

"How is this for a dead frog?" Vladimir asked, shoving her face less than an inch away from a bucket of stale water.

Her nostrils were instantly overpowered by the smell of decomposition; the contents of the bucket were clearly water from a swamp that had been left in the vessel indefinitely. He pointed her towards a large, sturdy board, equipped with a symmetric set of shackles.

Realising the purpose of the contraption elevated Vayne's dread to a new level. Her mind was clear and her heart was pounding, but despite all her ingenuity she saw no escape from what was about to happen. Time slowed down as she analysed the room for opportunities for escape or self-defence; there were none against a foe that could control her body and mind. The crushing futility caused her consciousness to retreat into a corner of her memories and relive the events of the fateful night she lost her parents.

"Lie on the board" he ordered; her hollow shell mechanically obeyed. Vladimir bound her thin limbs, peering into her eyes, savouring her suffering in a visible state of arousal.

The towel descended on her face, completely blocking her sight. But her mind was clear like never before, and in the face of terror she remembered the same formula that saved her all these years ago, that lead to her becoming the Night Hunter and cleansing the shadows of Demacia: Bend, don't break. Survive, adapt, conquer.

So she did what she had to do for her sanity to survive, and as the first drops of foul water wetted her face, she groaned:

"I'll kiss you"

The Noxian felt a mild sting of disappointment as she said it. His skins was tingling pleasantly, his cheeks had a faint rosy colour and his trousers felt painfully tight in anticipation of her tremors. Waterboarding a beautiful woman was always a spectacle to behold, but the smarter they were, the easier they broke.

"I'm disappointed" he stated the obvious " I was really looking forward to this. You will have to be very convincing, Shauna."

Her pride and her identity were pushed to the side by her undying will to learn about this man, about his weaknesses and eventually rid the world of him. But the situation required her to forget even about her hatred so instead she focused on her interest; she kindled the obsession she had with him in the past few months and imagining his exquisite, youthful form, Vayne managed to simulate the right amount of desire:

"I want you to take me."

Still riding the adrenaline high, Vladimir straddled his bound subject, removed the towel from her face and trapped her lips in a rough, passionate kiss. Vayne moaned in surprise, startled both by his actions and the alienness of the sensation. It was nothing like she imagined it would be; it was not even pleasant, his lips were moving too quickly, too selfishly for her to enjoy it.

"I want to see real effort from you" he finally said "honest passion and desire to please. Will I get it?"

"Yes."

He rose, satisfied, and unshackled Vayne's limbs.

"Go clean yourself and meet me at the living room." He ordered, hoping to get a few minutes to calm himself down.  
When he saw her again, she was docile and relaxed. She did not try to pull away nor shivered when he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her onto his lap. Her expression was one of faint curiosity and she followed his actions with interest. This was good enough for now, the mage thought.

A combination of magic and skilful fingers running along her back finally got her tense body to relax. She engaged in exploration of her own, curious about the texture of his ivory-coloured locks, a few inches below his shoulders in length. It was like silk, she thought, and wondered how a man gifted with such beauty could descend into so much depravity.

She realised he was waiting for the promised kiss. Pulling him closer, watching as his face filled her view (it all looked so strange) she parted her lips and accepted him.

It was completely different this time. He was trying his hardest to please her, and he was so devilishly precise and perfect at it. She had thought the sensation could not be enjoyable without her allowing it to be, but she was entirely wrong. The pleasure, much like him, forced itself into her senses. It made her sick to the stomach to be enjoying the touch of her enemy so much. She did her best to suppress that and focus on pleasing him.

With each passing minute he wrapped himself more and more around her, his grip got tighter, his kisses-deeper. He playfully licked her lower lip - a proposal and an invitation. She took it, assuming it was what he expected of her. His tongue came into play, passionate and aggressive, but no less pleasurable. He could continue only for a few seconds before having to break the kiss to catch his breath.

Vayne looked at him, equally breathless and mildly dizzy, a slight blush adorning her face.

"When are you going to take me?" She asked

"When you're ready" he replied, visibly in bliss "Listen, I want to see you enjoy yourself at least once."

She wanted to remark how sick the thought made her, but kept her mouth shut. It was clear as day how she felt towards him and catching the hint, Vladimir replied:

"It is the least you can do. It can go one of two ways, our time together I mean, and without doubt I will enjoy both. You should be grateful I'm giving you this option. Hell, you should be grateful I spared you."

"Is the fate of a sex-slave any better than death" she spat, instantly realising she might have earned herself another migraine or some other torture.

But he was only mildly irritated by her reaction.

"Listen, we fought, you lost. Each got to name the prize of their victory - for you it was my life as some sort of twisted retribution for your unpleasant childhood. I was perfectly in my right to kill you that night, but your beauty got the best of me and instead you will have to live with the shame of having been fucked by a Noxian, a black mage at that. Besides, I will release you eventually."

Vayne's thin eyebrows curled in surprise, the woman uncertain she had heard right.

"Oh yes, I will eventually get tired of playing with you. You have duties for your kingdom and the League will be rather boring without you. I'll probably send you off at some point and laugh every time I see you on the Fields of Justice."

"Don't you mind me killing your brethren? Aren't you afraid I might come after you?" She asked.

"They can rot in hell as far as I'm concerned. That brute Warwick deserves a painful death and if you ever meet Darius outside the Fields, well, my fingers will be crossed for you. With regards to you coming after me, it's not possible with all the enchantments I've woven into your blood while you slept. It will also be quite dishonorable to slay the man who spared you, don't you think? So no, don't think you will ever come after me- I'm far too skilled."

Vayne smiled for the first time in ages, relieved and amused by his playful nihilism. Vladimir dug his fingers in her hair and pulled her in for another kiss. Time flew past as they made out, as she discovered how delightfully sensitive her neck and ears were to his skilled lips and how well he reacted to gentle pulls on his hair and nails running along his back. He had pinned her to the sofa, positioned himself between her legs and was grinding against her, his intentions clear, when he broke the kiss and said:

"You must be starving. I should get you something."

Shauna Vayne, who was both too afraid to protest his advances and aroused by them, suddenly realised that her faintness was partly due to hunger. The food he brought was warm and only just cooked, and to her questions about it he replied:

"You don't want to know. You don't want to hate me more than you currently do."

She didn't ask anything more. In truth, the slaves of this mansion were once alive and human, but Vlad's endless experimentation with the medical aspects of blood magic had turned them into lobotomised flesh golems, only good for whatever purpose he had designated.

The rest of the evening was quite uneventful. Vladimir continued reading his medicine textbooks, his new pet sat in his lap, reading with him in her resilient attempts to understand more about his rare, forbidden magic. Occasionally they shared a kiss and while Vladimir was the one caressing her, she could swear he was letting out a faint purr.

He carried her to his bedroom, which was on he highest floor of the mansion; it was the epitome of luxury and extravagance. The captive's heart was racing, she was desperately trying to prepare herself for the experience of being raped. She knew he would be slow and tender if she was submissive enough, but she still wanted nothing to do with this fiend and was barely holding her tears at the thought of losing her virginity to him.

He put her down on her feet and proceeded to unbutton her trousers. He almost moaned at the sight of her toned and smooth legs. Her blouse followed, then the bra. The mage spent far too long admiring the contrast between her perfectly flat stomach, abs visible as she breathed deeply(in an attempt to avoid panic), and the full, high breasts with small, delightfully pink nipples. Large blue eyes and a waterfall of jet black hair painted a gothic picture of sin before him. She was a rose in bloom, even more beautiful in her obliviousness to her own irresistibility, and it was a sin to wait even a minute longer before taking her.

"Undress me" he demanded, voice hoarse with desire.

Vayne untied the dressing gown and pushed it down his shoulders. Her hands were trembling when she removed his shirt, even though the sight of him shirtless could give a minor orgasm to any woman who was not his nemesis.

She could not bring herself to reach further down; he could not wait. With a kiss that might as well have been a bite he pushed her onto the bed. His hands found her buttocks and squeezed the firm flesh, forcing her legs open, pressing into her until he heard a sob of pain. Looking at her face, he saw she was pallid and teary eyed, and the view excited him immensely. It required real willpower to stop himself there and then- he wanted her trust more than he wanted to have her right there and then, and while he wanted to inflict pain on her, he also wanted to see pleasure. So with the most concerned face he could muster, he pulled her under the covers and doused the light of the lantern.

"Sleep" he said gently, wrapping his arms around her, failing to resist cupping her breasts.

He caressed her head, using his magic to put her to sleep faster, and finally nodded off to the rhythm of her breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

Vladimir made sure to wake up before her. His kisses and caresses lifted the veil of sleep from her mind. Initially she responded to his touch, her repressed sensuality evident, but the moment the memories flooded back she froze.

"Shauna" he whispered in her ear between kisses." There is nothing to be afraid of."

He relied on the relaxation of sleep carrying over to the act. She was warm, rested and comfortable, some of the erotic dreams he had attempted to give her (he was unsure of his success - he was still experimenting with influencing hormone levels in humans)were perhaps still fresh in her mind.

He sucked on her earlobe, which earned him a series of delightful moans; his mouth travelled down her neck, which caused her to dig her nails into his back and trash, but not in pain.

"Don't fight it." He whispered

The air was heavy with the scent of magic, no doubt aiding the hemomancer in seducing his prey. Relieved , Vayne realised that she could not fight it, and despite her burning hatred, her body was aching to be filled, here and now. His hands grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed in a gesture of erotic dominance. Bend, don't break, she thought, as his mouth descended on her nipple. She let go of her morals, her inhibitions and grudges - it was the best she could do, and with the mage's enchantments whirling around her, it was "surprisingly easy.

Jolts of pleasure ran through her body as his lips worshipped her breast, not unlike the way thunder ran through a stormy sky. His face rose to the level of hers again and he released her hands.

"Touch me." He pleaded " I ache for you."

Her hand obediently slid down his sculpted torso, beneath his trousers, until she felt his erection. She had expected to feel disgust, but instead a new wave of warmth and desire washed over her. Her hand explored the length and the shape of it, her fingers searching for sensitive areas.

His own hand found itself between Vayne's legs, caressing gently at first which caused her hips to push almost involuntarily against him. She let go of him, focusing entirely on what he was about to do. His fingers found the knot of nerves and as he applied pressure in the right places, her entire body sang with ecstasy.

He took off her underwear, the final piece of clothing she had on.

"You want me so much, don't you?" He asked in a low, lustful voice

He pushed a finger inside her, then, when he was sure she could take it, another. The sensation was unpleasant and Vayne's body hungered for a lot more than his fingers, so she pushed his hand aside, eyes betraying her need.

"I'm sorry" he said" I'm going to hurt you. You're probably not going to enjoy any of this."

At that moment Vayne could not imagine anything but unspeakable pleasure filling her as he finally penetrated her, but again, her intuition about sex was completely wrong.He stood above her, tall and broad shouldered, his cock completely in proportion with his height. When he pressed against her wet entrance, she felt as if he was stabbing her with a large, incredibly dull blade. This part of the act was unpleasant for both, but he finally broke through her maidenhood and filled her, penetrating as much as her petite body allowed, groaning with delight at the friction exerted by her tight walls.

He was truly in a different state of mind in that moment. Virgin blood flowing on his most sensitive parts, and her body, tighter than anything he had had before, he had to fight himself every second not to lose control. He lowered himself and kissed her, the tenderness of his lips contrasting how raw and sore he made the inside of her body feel. And yet, unsure what had possessed her, Vayne wrapped her legs around his waist and beckoned him to move. He obeyed; swinging back and forth, muffling his moans in her neck, he slid in and out of her repeatedly, causing even more soreness and pain to appear.

He straightened his back, getting a good look of the beauty beneath him. Her eyes followed him with a mix of shame, desire and interest. He could tell she was in pain, but simply too aroused to care, and as he started moving again, watching his erection slide into her tight, tiny body, her veins bulging and muscles tensing at the effort to accommodate him, he, too, completely surrendered to desire. He moved inside her roughly, selfishly, almost bringing himself to the edge a few times, but delaying the release to savour this precious lay. Vayne watched him, not making a single sound, trying to deal both with the pain and discomfort of his pounding and with how blindingly beautiful he looked. As much as she preferred to appear cold and frigid, she could not remain indifferent to the sight of the wickedly sensual creature orgasming right before her. An old fantasy of hers was to see a man forget his speech with pleasure and by coincidence (or by the mage's designs) she was witnessing just that. He uttered her name between gasps and moans and after a series of muscular spasms bathed her womb with his hot, thick ejaculate.

He collapsed on top of her, a weak "thank you" on his lips, heart pounding deafeningly.

He lay holding her in a tight embrace with his face buried in her hair, breathing heavily, that mild purr from before audible again.

Vayne, finally free from his spells, was a confused, uncomfortable mess. What had just happened? She felt the same and yet different; she knew something irreversible had happened, but equally she felt hollow and indifferent. Her emotions were reduced only to the most basic sensations: discomfort at the lingering pain from the act, and paralyzing disgust at the cooling mess of fluids between her legs. She forced all emotion away and asked in her usual cold and flat voice:

"What now?"

The mage ran a hand along her lower belly, all pain fading under his touch.

"You need a bath." He said and kissed her.

As soon as they entered the hot water his hands started wandering again. Vayne swallowed her disgust and followed his guidance, obediently letting his tongue in her mouth and his hand between her thighs. Noticing she was more tolerant of his touch, he slid a finger inside her, making small, light motions in an attempt to arouse her. He had managed to heal her wounds successfully and there was no soreness or pain, and the residual lubrication helped him greatly.

"I'm going to fuck you again, sweetheart."he purred, yet the gentle nickname sent shivers down her spine "and you will enjoy it this time."

He laid her on her back in the large bathtub with only her head, neck and shoulders above the water. Her black hair was dancing on the surface as if she was a mythical siren; breasts that were already high completely lacked gravity underwater, waking Shauna's overwhelming physical beauty look supernatural. His hand was still cupping her, a finger still inside her, the small movements causing a steady rise of excitement in her core.

"Help me please you, my mistress" he whispered as he summoned a seductive glimmer in his eyes." Guide me."

Vayne hesitated before remembering she had no choice but to surrender. She placed her hand on his and showed him the exact rhythm her body required. It was complex and irregular, but the Hemomancer grasped it and abused his knowledge to take her where she hadn't been on her own. He used magic to increase the circulation in her pelvic area, which in turn gave new depth and power to the waves of pleasure washing through her. Her back arched, her lips parted, letting out small gasps as she held her breath in anticipation of the coming release. She had arched her back so hard the tips of her breasts were above the water when she finally got close, in need of just one final push to find her release. But Vladimir denied it to her by withdrawing his hand and holding her wrists above her head.

"You are truly a thing of beauty, Shauna. But I want you to try again, this time without any hands"

He positioned her differently this time, on her hands and knees, ass sticking out of of the water, thighs pressed together. Still holding her wrists together, placing kisses on the nape of her neck, he did not sate her need; being the tease he had decided to be, he pushed his cock between her thighs. The friction made her shiver and clench her thigh muscles.

"Vocalize your desires, my dear." The incubus whispered "I want to hear your lovely voice."

Vayne was rubbing against the thick cock in a vain attempt to claim the orgasm that was stolen from her. She was in an altered state of mind, a subspace Vladimir had worked hard to put her into, his methods both magical and psychological. His efforts were paying off now, and shortly after he started teasing her by slowly sliding his hips back and forth, he heard her moan:

"Do it, you son of a bitch."

"This son of a bitch" he purred in between thrusts"is going to fuck you senseless, darling."

He pushed inside her, encountering far less resistance that before while still finding her incredibly tight. Vayne cried out. It was a sweet and lustful melody and to his ears it sounded glorious. Still pinning her down, he was denying her any control f the situation until he was sure she had adjusted to his girth.

And when he felt she was ready, he changed the position once more: He sat back and let the girl straddle him, sliding inside her painlessly, earning another sweet moan.

"Take me" he said, eyes watching her wet body with wild hunger

She obeyed her sinful desires and rode him rhythmically, her strong and fit form capable of the sweetest motions. She came this time, her first orgasm with a man, and Vladimir felt truly amazing when her tight walls contracted around him and she let out a sweet, sensual moan, sounding nothing like the merciless Vayne on the Rift.

In one quick move, the mage rolled over, finding himself on top, and repeated the rhythm he had learned from her until she was moaning again. He continued his ministrations, not breaking the pace, which extended her orgasm beyond his expectations. His hands grabbed her breasts, kneaded them, fireworks of pleasure going off in his head and loins as he gradually altered the rhythm to suit himself rather than her and finally found his own release, filling her with another large dose of his seed. By this moment, she had orgasmed no fewer than three times and was dizzy and exhausted; so she welcomed his embrace and kisses as their passion slowly cooled down and they both could think and speak again.

"How?" She finally asked, having returned her cool

"A combination of black magic and skill. Don't blame yourself, you have no agency and no control here."

Okay, she thought, so he managed to give her an orgasm no more than two hours after he had taken her virginity by force. Her mind was cold, calm and rational again; this was a learning experience.

Vladimir bathed his pet, occasionally sharing kisses with her. When they left the bath, she asked:

"Are you sterile?"

"No." He laughed "I'm a healthy human male, despite the nature of my art. I will be flattered if you decide to keep it though. It might end up killing me. Who knows, it might be the next Hemomancer."


	5. Chapter 5

Later that day Vladimir was in his usual room, reading yet another medical journal. He seemed in a good mood (why would he not be?), so Vayne decided to try her luck with a rare request.

"How big is your library? What kind of books are in it?"

Unfortunately for her, she couldn't go there alone. Not long ago she had come across another nasty surprise - straying too far from her captor resulted in an incapacitating headache. The Crimson Reaper was keeping his pet on a magical leash.

"Anything related to my practices-arcane theory, dark arts, medicine. And some pornography, if you would like to learn."

"Anything on hemomancy?"

"No. There never was and never will be a book on the theory of my arts. Blood magic is not some recipe you can learn from a book - you have to live it. It all started as one man's attempt to cheat death. He succeeded, centuries ago, and he still lives through me, the same way my mentor does, and the same way I will live through my apprentice."

"Do you remember his life?"

"Faintly. My memory is not infinite. But his life is irrelevant. It's the art that lives on and flourishes, research unconstrained by mortality."

So that was blood magic, Vayne thought. An ancient black mage's pursuit to pollute the rivers of life forever.

"It's all here" he continued and gestured vaguely towards his head "the practice, the habit, but it's like a library buried under a storm of dust. It doesn't help how different we all are in out interests. Dmitri, my master, he was the mastermind of plagues; his creations culled entire villages. He lived in that mountain temple, selfishly slowing his aging until he was tired and ready to pass his gift on. Those corpses you saw there, they were all diseased coming to beg him to lift his curse from their homelands; they all failed, needless to say."

On the Rift, Vayne had felt the chilling touch of Vladimir's Hemoplague. She had no idea it was not his creation.

"His discoveries are destructive and fun, but not my most favourite thing. Me, I like to enjoy myself. I like to live well. And I'm rather creative." He pinched Shauna's cheek with a smug smile

"Your records in the League show that you came there out of bloodlust, because of the thrill of killing."

"But it gets boring after a while. I was but a child when I joined. I was about as virginal as you were yesterday. Sure, spilling blood never gets old. But over time you learn to savour it, to mix pleasure and pain in a perfect cocktail. You learn to play with your food, to experience it fully."

"So you've not brought me here to give me multiple orgasms then?"

"Not at all, sweetheart"

Of course, she thought, a Noxian with vanilla tastes was considered a degenerate.

She felt a droplet of blood trickle from her nostril. Vladimir reached out and wiped it with his thumb, then tasted it.

"You're not scared, just amused and intrigued. I like you, Shauna Vayne. Come, I have a book on lycans and the cursed somewhere. Might help your dog problem."

She had been in the library for hours when Vladimir disrupted her study of the records of Zaunian human trials.

"Shauna." He said "I need to leave for a while. I will probably be back by tomorrow noon."

"You expect me to take care of the house?"

"It will break my heart if you try to leave me. You won't like heartbreak."

Having said that, he caressed her head tenderly, until his magic put her to sleep. She managed to swear through her teeth before she lost consciousness.

Vayne woke up underground, in a dungeon cell that was only big enough to fit a bed and a desk. Her book, at least, was there to keep her company.

She cursed the bastard again and again before getting to her feet and testing the cell door. It was sturdy wood, locked using an archaic mechanism. The woman laughed under her breath. She was Shauna Vayne after all, and if this lock was the only thing in her way, she would be long gone in a few hours.

It took hard work to bust the wooden desk, but her small form compensated in speed what she did not have in raw strength. Once the bolts were out, picking the lock was little work; the door swung open and Vayne escaped. After some hesitation, she took the book with her; it would prove valuable in her hunt. The mansion was locked as well, but the ground floor windows could easily be broken.

It was dark outside, a cloudy, moonless night, so she had no idea how much time she had slept. The stables were a small, dilapidated shack at the edge of the mansion's grounds. There was a single horse inside. A large, rather ridiculous black helmet covered its face. It's hoof was shackled to the ground. For Vayne this was just another lock to pick. She mounted the animal and rode out into the night.

She rode for a mile until she ordered the steed to switch to a steady trot. She had followed the path coming from the mansion until she reached a clearing and a larger road. She could see the shadow of a great mountain to her left. It gave her an idea which way to ride to reach Demacian territory.

Vayne let herself experience emotion for the first time since Vladimir had captured her. The faint glimmer of hope glowed brighter as she rode uninterrupted, bothered only by the chilling autumn air. She let the feeling fill her, until the excitement caused her heart to skip a beat. She paid no attention to it; but then, in a few seconds, the incident repeated itself. Her pulse gradually dissolved into illogical, loud pounding. She felt an unpleasant tingle in her throat, which caused her to cough, and the Night Hunter coughed until her fist was stained by blood. Even if she had not already been sure that magic was in the root of this, the voice she heard would have confirmed her fears:

"Anything wrong, Shauna?"

But this wasn't Vladimir's voice. It was the voice of an aging man whose lungs were ill and sanity- questionable. Even worse, it came from the horse. Vayne ordered the animal to stop and took off its helmet, only to gasp at the sight of the abomination beneath.

The wrinkled, grimacing face of a man was attached to the animal's neck in the uncanniest of ways. It looked at her with yellowish, bloodshot eyes, and said:

"You will not arrive in Demacia in time to get cured. There is only one man who can save you."

"Who are you?" Hissed Vayne

"Why, I'm the stableman of course." The abomination laughed. "Better get you back, don't want his favourite toy dead."

Well, it was worth trying. The woman murmured every curse she knew as Vladimir's servant carried her back to where she was running from. Her symptoms advanced, her heart was pierced by a sharp pain, as if becoming sundered; the bastard had played with the word "heartbreak" before he left. Eventually her blood pressure fell and she lost her grip on reality.

. . .

Shauna Vayne's awakening was surprisingly sudden and she felt incredibly refreshed and alert only seconds after. This allowed her to scan the room and groan at what she saw. She was on her hands and knees, bound to a small pedestal, a metal pole with a large metal collar at one end fixing the position of her neck. She was, of course, naked, and an amused looking Vladimir was sitting in the corner of the room. A large mirror gave her a good view of her vulnerable position.

"I want you to know" said Vladimir gently " that I don't condemn what you did. Don't blame yourself for what is going to follow. I am not punishing you - I was going to do this anyway."

He stood up. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of trousers, shamelessly displaying his sculpted, youthful form. His hair, freshly combed, fell seductively past his shoulders. Worst of all, he was perfectly aware of how sensual he looked.

The tool in his hands was a long, thin cane, and he caught her unguarded when he swung it swiftly, landing a painful hit on her buttocks and exposed lips. Vayne clenched her teeth, trying not to make a sound. Staying silent became harder and as the caning went on, Vladimir managing to hit roughly the same spot each time, until she was sure she was bleeding. Vayne could see his expression in the mirror and he could see hers. The feral glimmer in his red eyes met the icy hatred in her cold blues; he took a deep breath and said:

"Shauna, I think we've been over this before. I love your voice and I need to hear more of it."

The cane swung again, still failing to earn a scream. Fine, the mage thought. He grabbed the tool near its tip and inserted an inch into Shauna's ass. She jumped in shock, causing the metal collar around her neck to make a satisfying rattling sound. Startled, she sought his eyes in the mirror and met a sadistic smile. Vladimir eased in another inch. The sensation was so frighteningly strange to her, the tip of the cane occasionally scraping against her rectum, her unable to tell how deep.

"How deep do you think it is?" He asked with a maniacal glare in his eyes "how long do you think I can go on before puncturing you?"He said as he pushed an inch deeper.

At this moment she realised he was perfectly capable of killing her right there if she dared him. Bend, don't break, she thought.

"About four inches, I'd wager."

"Wrong.Now it's four. And now it's six. I'll go deeper than that in a bit."

He left the cane absurdly sticking out of her and grabbed her hurt buttocks roughly, right berfore landing a powerful slap on the left one. Shauna whimpered.

"I want you to count." He ordered

She made it until almost thirty until Vladimir was satisfied with how tortured and red her backside looked and how sexily she'd learned to scream. He moved in front of her to marvel at her teary eyes, to kiss her deeply and passionately before rubbing his clothed midsection in her face, giving her a clear idea of what watching her suffer had done to him.

He unbuttoned and unzipped and taking the erection in his hand, proceeded to rub all over Shauna's face. After he wiped the precum off her cheeks and eyelids, he ordered her to suck and pressed against her lips. They slowly parted and he gasped, feeling the inside of her mouth for the first time. In a way, he considered a woman's first fellatio more powerful than the loss of her virginity. It was certainly more degrading.

"Look at me. Straight in the eyes." He purred

Vayne obeyed, her otherwise beautiful eyes full of pain and disgust. She hated the taste and almost gagged at it; regardless, her tongue explored the texture and shape, giving the mage some pleasant stimulation. He dug his fingers in her hair and started fucking her mouth, quickly but not very deep; Shauna learned to keep her mouth in the right position so that both Vladimir felt the stimulation and her jaw hurt the least. Eventually his sadistic curiosity peaked and, caressing her head, he whispered gently:

"This might make you sick. Open your throat and try to take me."

She tried to block him with her tongue, but he pushed past her resistance. She gagged hard once he reached the back of her mouth, tears running down the sides of her face. She had not ever been aware a man could fuck a woman like this, which made the act even more degrading. He could not, however, make it past her throat; so he grabbed her head in an iron grip and tried again, whispering and moaning under his breath:

"Come on, Shauna, relax... just press it down, let me in..."

He kept failing to push his full length in her mouth, but watching the torture reflect in her blue eyes was more than satisfying. No woman could look proud after her gag reflex had been repeatedly triggered; Vayne was no exception. As he thrusted and withdrew she looked more and more broken and submissive, almost pathetic. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks and her stomach clamped audibly every time her gag reflex reacted with particular strength. She coated his cock in saliva; saliva also ran outside of her mouth, down her chin, mixing with some of the tears.

Vladimir had done it. He had reduced the proud Night Hunter to a submissive mess. But he still needed his orgasm.

"Good job. At least you lubricated me."

He positioned behind her, letting her examine her own face in the mirror for a few seconds. Removing the cane slowly, he spat on her anus, pushing a wet finger in until he was sure at least the entrance to her rectum was lubricated. Then his erection came into play. The view of the large organ being pressed against her small, toned ass drove him mad with lust. He pushed roughly, indifferent to the damage he was perhaps causing (after all, he could repair at least some of it afterwards)and managed to get the head inside. Vayne whimpered and tried to dodge his cock or free herself, all efforts fruitless against his adrenaline-fuelled strength. He managed to push himself deeper, at which point the woman's whimpers turned into screams. He started gently rocking his hips back and forth, helping her open further and feeling his toes curl with pleasure.

To Vayne all of this felt like hell. What was worse than the pain of her tight ass being stretched was the feeling that the large cock which was now almost completely inside her did not belong up her ass. It triggered all sorts of confusing responses from her body; her insides felt violated and if the gagging session was not enough, this was also making her feel sick.

Vladimir withdew almost completely, applying plenty of saliva-lube to himself before going back in. Then, finally, he could move enough to orgasm. The rocking of his hips started slow and gentle as he gradually increased his pace, until he was slamming himself inside her, breathing heavily, whispering something under his breath.

Vayne watched him in the mirror, ivory hair covering most of his face, sweat glistening on his lean, muscular form. He was nearing his release, which caused the pounding to feel unbearably painful. Once or twice he managed to push inside her completely, which inflicted a special type of agony on her tortured insides.

"Shauna..." He finally groaned as he came. He emptied some of his semen inside her, while the rest he shot on her back.

"Don't we look amazing." He said, panting, gesturing to the mirror-him in his post-orgasm glow and Vayne looking crushed and humiliated.

The Noxian unceremoniously zipped his trousers and unlocked Vayne's collar. The complex ropework remained on her limbs. It constrained her movements while he lifted her up and carried her out of the dungeon.


	6. Chapter 6

The following morning Vayne was exploring the lycan book. Vladimir appeared behind her and without answering any questions, pulled down her nightgown enough to expose her bare chest, and took great delight in kneading the soft mounds of flesh, which she could swear were getting larger since she lost her virginity. Her body responded to his touch so when he bent her over the desk and felt the uncovered area between her legs, he found a treacherous wetness. The clothing he was wearing was elegant and exquisite, but he did not bother to take any off. Instead he merely exposed the throbbing erection and pushed it inside her.

There was something very sweet about the way his cock rubbed against her front wall in this position. As he pressed her wrists to the desk and started fucking faster, a familiar pleasant thrill started running through her body.

"Bastard," Vayne moaned, nearing her release "inbred misbegotten cur."

But the provocation did not save her from the shame of orgasming in the hands of her nemesis. Was this what hatefucking was like?

"It's like tickling, darling." He whispered between sucking and kissing her ear. "And that's the beauty of it."

And she came again and again, until the spasms of her walls were too much and drove him to the edge. He pulled out and in one quick move forced Vayne on her knees.

"Open." He purred, pushing the moist erection against her lips "open, or I will come on your face."

Disgusted by the thought, she reluctantly parted her lips, letting the mage through. The friction against her palate and tongue was the final push he needed. Vayne saw his face contort in the throes of ecstasy and the combination of adrenaline and arousal caused her to do something reckless: she bit into him, the scream that followed almost giving her another orgasm, and his confused and pained expression satisfying her beyond belief. He still ejaculated into her mouth, causing her to gag from the taste, but there was no doubt his release had been ruined.

Vayne could not bring herself to swallow. She spat the liquid out into the nearby paper bin while Vladimir fixed his clothing and caught his breath.

"Woman," he started in a breathy voice"you are absolutely terrible at blowjobs. I need to fix that. First lesson is tomorrow" And without saying anything more, he left the room.

Shauna just shrugged the accident off. She was soaking in so much information from living with her captor, both on the nature of his dark arts and on the other enemies of Demacia, that the forced sex was almost a fair price for it. He had removed a few books from the library and the drawers of most desks had noticeably been recently emptied. There was a secret stash of letters and books hidden in the mansion, possibly without the use of magic, as Vayne could detect most enchantments. It, no doubt, had to do with the elusive order of the Black rose, to which Vladimir probably belonged. In theory, politics was none of the Night Hunter's business, which did not stop her from receiving the same updates as the Demacian spymaster on a weekly basis. She was not some patriotic goon like Garen; she had her own schemes and plans, and through blackmail and social engineering she had managed to succeed at least partway with all of them.


	7. Chapter 7

Vayne was kneeling naked on the stone floor of the Hemomancer's dungeon, in the same cell she managed to escape from three days earlier. He had dragged her there for her "blowjob lesson", had tied her hands behind her back and made her drink plenty of water ("for lubrication") before stripping completely. He was already semihard from the wrestle to tie her and from the view of the beautiful bound girl bathed in candlelight.

"I'm sure you are aware by now that biting is not a great idea. But in case you persist, I will take measures."

The small object he showed her- a steel ring with two leather straps and a pair of hooks on each side -had the clear purpose of keeping her mouth open for him.

"Now show me what you can do." He inserted his middle finger into her mouth.

His other hand painfully grabbed a handful of her hair and rocked her head back and forth while keeping the finger straight and stationary. In a few moments he ordered the woman to continue of her own, his rough grip turning into a gentle caress. When he was satisfied, he asked her to switch to his now completely erect cock. Vayne had no choice but to obey and by this point had learned to not show too much character when he was in one of his dominant moods. She sucked, trying to imitate the motions he made when on the verge of release. While her efforts felt nice, he was not interested in teaching her to suck like a highly-paid escort. His pressure on her head ever increasing, he said:

"Now show me how deep you can go."

She hesitated, only to be pressed forward by his unforgiving grip; her tongue failed to block him again and soon the cock was rubbing against the back of her mouth, unable to penetrate further. Vladimir took his time to enjoy the view of his toy's body contort as she gagged and pride drained from her eyes, then pulled out.

"Let's try with the fingers again" he murmured and forced two fingers into her mouth.

His fingers were thin and flexible, far more so than his cock. Vayne's throat bulged from his presence; the rest of his hand grasped her face, not letting go even as tears rolled down her cheeks and saliva filled her mouth. She was slowly trying to back out from the torture, until her back hit the edge of the bed. At this point Vladimir, whose eyes were glimmering with wicked desire, whispered:

"This is where I should go. Keep your mouth and throat in one line. When I release, you will spit out everything. Am I clear?"

She nodded. The Noxian smeared the mouthful of slimy saliva all over her face as soon as it left her mouth; most of it stuck to her eyelids, making her unable to open her eyes; she could not see, only feel his cock as it invaded her mouth, this time his hands managing to force her head into position. The thick rod somehow managed to slide in this time and the pain of its girth stretching her tight, thin neck was simply unbearable. Her face stay buried in his pubic hair for several seconds, during which Vayne's body fought the hardest it could to push the much stronger man away. She could not breathe and all self control had vanished. And her gag reflex... there were no words for how incredibly sick and filthy she felt.

Eventually Vladimir became aware that she could pass out if he stayed in any longer. So he pulled out, which made Shauna feel as if her stomach was imploding. She was not prepared for the slap which followed. Her left cheek burned and her ears were ringing to the point of deafness. He had, through force and humiliation, deprived her of all senses, except for the ability to feel and smell.

Another slap followed, and then another, until she could not feel the left side of her face but was positive it was bleeding. The mage picked her up, using only two handfuls of thick black hair, bringing her face closer to his. When he spoke through his teeth, Shauna felt his breath on her face and could sense the adrenaline surging through him.

"Look at you fearsome Night Hunter."

He repeatedly spat on her face from this position, making sure to smear it all over her face. The smell of his breath flooded her nostrils as her entire body shook with disgust and humiliation.

Vladimir laid her on her back, her head hanging from the side, giving him easy access to her throat. He pounded mercilessly; he gave her no breaks and no chances to wiggle out, as his hands in either side of her face were as good as a vice. The entrance to her throat was tight and textured and provided him with just the stimulation he wanted. Combined with the wild trashing of her stunning body, the far from subtle powerplay between the two and the sounds she made, the experience was heavenly for him. For Vayne, it was a twisted torture she could not zone out of. Every thrust flicked the panic switch in her brain, sending her body into a sequence of uncontrollable trashing motions. Sickened and oxygen deprived, she was losing her grip on reality. Thankfully her captor enjoyed this a bit too much and soon pulled out, spilling on her face. His abundant load mixed with the liquids already there. The spitting had been degrading, but familiar; when the hot, smelly and terribly alien substance covered her forehead, eyelids and lips, she needed just a little push to burst into tears from pain and humiliation.

She swallowed her tears as Vladimir bound her to the bed and after slapping her bare ass gently, whispered:

"Let's see if you can escape this, dear."

And left her in the dungeon room.

When she could no longer hear him, Vayne, for the first time in many many years, let herself cry. Her silent sob was triggered by primal, overwhelming emotions: pain, soreness and crushing humiliation as the sperm and saliva dried on her face. Only bending was turning out to be harder when her captor had ventured into pure sadistic depravity.

Eventually she opened her eyes and studied the knot binding her hands. Vladimir had put some effort into the ropework, but it was clear his previous subjects did not excel in dexterity.

Shauna freed herself and left the dungeon. She stormed into the bathroom and poured handfuls upon handfuls of water on her face. When the last trace of the degrading stains was gone, she dared look at herself in the mirror. As she had guessed, her cheek was bruised and bleeding. In his rage he had completely destroyed her beauty. Oh well, she thought, maybe he would stay away from her from now on.

She turned around and found that the hemispherical bath was full of hot, bubbly water. As she approached it, the foam stirred and the Hemomancer rose above the water.

"Poor girl." He looked at her. The burning pain in her cheek faded. "There." he paused to look at her "The more you stay with me, the better I will control you, Shauna. Besides, you need to be pretty for the banquet."

Her heart sank.

"There is a banquet in about two weeks. I will be honoured if you choose to be my lady. Another thing, we will be having guests soon."

"Anyone I know?" She had to get her self-control back quickly

"Someone who is also in the League. Also, I will need you to sleep with me from now on. I believe it will improve our relationship."

"I like our relationship as it is."

"Then you have some very unusual tastes. I want to be loved by you, that is all. Come join me. I have used my most expensive oils."

Vayne stepped into the bath and was met by his tender embrace. The aroma was truly exquisite. After the hour in that cold, damp dungeon, warm water was a welcome change. The familiar uncanny relaxation spread through her body and before she knew it, Vladimir was in full control again. He washed her hair, gently massaging her scalp, using oils and soaps even she, rich as she was, hesitated to buy. She should have resisted when he shaved her pubic hair, but she simply had no will left to fight.

Vladimir led her out of the bathroom, gently covering her body with a warm towel. He dried and brushed her beautiful hair until it fell like a velvet curtain over her shoulders. Then he took the woman's hand and lead her to the wardrobe. As she stood in the focus of a ring of mirrors, he piled dresses in her hands, each more exquisite than the previous. He then stood in the middle of the ring, still wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, and holding her hands, pleaded in that fake subservience which looked all the more threatening when Vayne knew what refusal would bring:

"You can be the lady of this house, Shauna... my love. Just act the part; bend, don't break. I will get my way eventually, and I have studied you well enough to alter your mind, like I have altered living matter before. You have seen my stableman; I have done better since. Or you can choose to love me, let me in your heart; be my sweet, obedient darling. And you will reap the rewards. I know i cannot interest you with my wealth and lovely dresses, but consider this: if, at the banquet in a fortnight, you make me happy, I will release you the following morning. I will give you a horse and a sword and a crossbow and I will let you go."

He was almost giving her puppy eyes at that point, but his steel determination could be felt in the air. He was not going to take a refusal.

"What do you say, Vayne? Have you never wanted to take a break from being the Night Hunter, and just be a woman, and have a lover?"

At this point the final ounce of hope and dignity drained from her; he saw it in her eyes. She had finally realised how far she had to bend and how completely she had to surrender. Vladimir waited patiently through her silence and yet congratulated himself for moulding her so well when she accepted his offer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this part way after I wrote the rest of Pawns, out of boredom and wanting to write some more juicy VxV smut.  
> It's a pretty vanilla but very detailed scene, enjoy.

Shauna Vayne indulged in the life of a noble lady, which she rarely had time to enjoy, the following day. At dinner, her lover opened his reserve of exquisite wine and treated her to chocolate for dessert.

"How can I not," he said “you look so beautiful in this dress."

As the sun neared the horizon, he saddled his finest horse and rode out to a riverside meadow in the hills. A small island overshadowed by an old willow stood in the middle of that river and Vladimir laid his coat on the soft grass, beckoning Vayne to sit by him.

“Is this your plan?” she asked, watching the intricate pattern the fiery light of sunset cast on her lover’s clothing. “Bring me here, take me like you doubtlessly have done with many before me?”

She wanted to add how unimaginative as far as seduction went, but kept quiet.

“We don’t have to. Could just sit, talk and watch the sunset if you so desire.”

She didn’t have anything to say to him and the thought of romance with the sadistic bastard made her uncomfortable at the very least. He watched the decision form behind her blue irises, the realization she preferred the sweet oblivion of sex to his attempts at being affectionate.

She sat in his lap and kissed him, driving her tongue in his mouth and ending the kiss with a playful bite to make her intentions more than clear.

“My love,” he said, “I promise, you won’t regret your decision.”

Her fingers found the buttons of his waistcoat and removed the garment. Such a good girl, he thought as he savoured the view of her eyes cast down, fingers doing what she had to do to please her owner.

He would kindle desire amidst her fear and hatred and merge the three emotions until she could not tell the difference. Bare chested in the chill autumn air, he leaned back and let the strips of fiery sunlight accentuate the intricate muscles beneath his porcelain skin. Her fingers were now on his belt buckle and she wasn’t shaking nearly as much as the first time. She pulled his trousers down, to his knees, her eyes running along the pale, smooth, fully erect length before briefly meeting his. He almost felt the wave of intense repulsion run through her and her willpower instantly turn it all into humility and submission.

She leaned over, ready to wrap her lips around the semi exposed tip.

“No…” he whispered.

He grabbed her shoulders and rolled over, finding himself on top. Arms wrapped tightly around her, he kissed that sweet mouth and removed her exquisite clothing, piece by piece, until Vayne lay naked on her own dress, the heat of his body the only thing protecting her from the biting cold.

“What I am about to do,” he whispered,” is considered taboo in Noxus, and possibly Demacia. A man should not be doing this for his concubine, and especially not for his slave. But I want you to enjoy my touch so much, Shauna.”

As his lips slid lower down her body, she understood exactly why he’d shaved her. There was no doubt this was going to feel exquisite and she hated him for it, hated the passionate look he gave her before he placed his mouth on her lower lips. There was a weak moan of protest as his tongue parted her sensitive folds in search of the knot of nerves. He found it almost instantly, the gentle bud swollen against her will from her prolonged contact with his silky skin.

He quickly drew more moans from her with a combination of careful pressure and gentle sucking. It was an entirely new sensation, so different from what he achieved with his cock, but just as lovely, if not more. The sweet oblivion Vayne had sought overcame her, her blood boiling and shifting towards her sex, aiding her lover in creating the pure waves of ecstasy that ran through her body. His arms cradled her hips, his sweet mouth interrupting the worship of her clit to move lower, until Vayne felt the tip of his tongue penetrate her and screamed in surprise and undeniable arousal. It was nowhere near as pleasurable as his throbbing girth and it only made her realize how much she wanted him. But the mage didn’t oblige, instead returned to the gentle worship of her clit, giving her a sly look.

Her face and chest tingly and flushed, the Demacian wrapped her thighs tighter around his head. She was teary eyed and gasping for breath and felt her heart skip a beat as Vladimir slid two fingers inside her. She gripped the ground and tried to move her hips back and forth, to experience the penetration she so badly needed. But her lover was strict, he gripped her buttocks and allowed her no additional movement. A few more minutes of exquisite cunnilingus and she felt his lips leave her folds, and both heard and felt him whisper:

“Beg me.”

“Take me,” was the almost instant yelp that followed.

She saw him only briefly through the tears that dimmed her gaze, a vision of intense, sensual beauty. He filled her, she was wetter and more ready than she had ever been, and pushed until his base pressed against her. The realization that he could hilt so soon dimmed his mind and if that wasn’t enough, the tight, wet paradise instantly contracted around him, drawing a series of grunts and ecstatic moans.

“You’re going to kill me, Shauna,” Vlad whispered as his self-control returned.

He was ablaze in his need to finish inside that tight body, which drove him mad with its contractions, and even a single look at the delicious mix of emotions behind the blue irises could send him into pre-orgasmic spasms. Her legs over his shoulders, pinning her arms down, the position sacrificed all her agency for the sake of ultimate pleasure. The man started moving- the pace Shauna had learned to love, growing quicker and more passionate as her delight became more intense. Her pale, large breasts were the only part of her that moved in response to his tucking. Having touched and tasted his cock and so intimately familiar with its shape and size, Vayne found out thinking about the way the rod filled her made the experience infinitely more erotic. So despite the fact that the magic he was using to arouse her was minimal, soon her tight flesh contracted and grasped him again, repeatedly, until his breathing became loud and ragged, and he said 'Come for me' in a quick gasp. She screamed, of course she screamed, and semi-voluntarily fought his grip, until Vlad embraced her tightly, lips on her neck, his body still for several long seconds.

"Shauna..." he mumbled as he started moving again, taking long pauses during which he thrusted more passionately than ever," I never told you this, but the moment you first stepped on the Fields I wished I could have you... in many ways, not just this one... over and over again... I would have counted it among my greatest achievements... and to hear you say my name, that would be the greatest honour..."

He said more in a thick, gentle whisper that she barely understood, as she was busy trying to cope with the waves upon waves of pleasure running through her, amplifying as his pace quickened. Vlad was incredibly close, growing increasingly louder in his grunts and less sensible in his whispers. His self control lasted at least until she came again, moaning and grinding against him in the scorching heat of the act.

Her mind was blank from anything but the stunning male in her arms. The moment he uttered a simple command, she obeyed immediately.

"Say my name!"

"Vlad! Vladimir!"

His pupils widened in surprise to the success, his carefully controlled thrusts quickly devolving into fast, greedy pounding. Hearing Vayne say his name like that pushed him over the edge and extracted screams of pure ecstasy from him as he exploded inside her in three long strokes, each accompanied by a whisper of her name and a large dose of his seed flowing inside her, until it started leaking out.

There was no way she was not pregnant at this point, the realization crossed her mind and was quickly forgotten.

When his ragged breathing and thundering pulse began to fade, Vlad looked at the woman and realized she had not had enough and could even read some disappointment in her reaction to him finishing that quickly. So without even pulling out, he leaned down and placed his lips on hers before saying:

"Honey... I'm not done with you. I'm far from done with you."

And his movements resumed, his hard cock sliding through his own semen inside her. She cursed the dark sorcery that enabled him to do this, clawed at his back in weak protests, but there was really nothing she could do. Vlads perfect command of both his blood and hers soon became evident in the sensations that shook her entire pelvic area.

It was incredible, mindblowong, and no matter how skilled her lover was with his cock, Vayne was sure what she was experiencing could not be achieved by penetration alone. She screamed until it became too good for sounds to describe the sensation. It was perfect stimulation of all the parts of her that needed stimulating, a permanent stream of ecstasy. Her breathing was fast, in rhythm with Vlad's thrusts; she was hyperventilating. She saw stars, blindingly bright colours, and when it didn't stop for several minutes finally passed out in the arms of her lover, just as the sun had set.

Later that evening as she fell asleep in his embrace, with all her dignity and will to fight demolished, she could feel herself becoming attached to her captor. Yet she did not fight her newfound affection- she had already surrendered.

The next day he shackled her arms to the dungeon ceiling and beat her with a piano string, leaving bloody cuts all over her skin. She sobbed and bled as he fucked her in every hole. When he was satisfied, he healed her wounds and made her wear nothing but a thick leather collar for the rest of the day. 

He beckoned her under the covers and as soon as he wrapped his arms around her in a gentle embrace, all tension was gone from her body and all troubles-from her mind.

"I love you, Shauna. Do you love me?" He whispered as she was dosing off.

"Not yet." She answered

He would ask her the same question every night, after a day of either horrific abuse or mutual pleasure. His control on her life got stricter, his brutality in the dungeon - more severe. She knew the exact name of the psychological phenomenon that took place and she could see her captor was playing by the book to invoke it. And yet the obsession with him grew inside her, always in the wrong direction, always shameful and out of her control. Until one night she answered with a "yes" to his question and burst into tears instantly after. He wiped her tears, not even attempting to hide his smugness, and reassured her that it was all okay, while planning her torture for the following day.


	9. Chapter 9

Vayne did not learn who the guests were until, as commanded by Vladimir, she had to greet them at the door. She had, however, guessed and her guess had proven pretty accurate. A young man stood by the doorstep, similar to Vladimir in his flamboyance, but lacking the predatory undertones and powerful presence. Later Vayne would learn that he was Marquis du Lomont. He was not famous for much other than being young, ambitious and unimaginably rich. Indeed, he was little more than a pet and the arm candy to his partner- the woman who was known in the League simply as LeBlanc.

The lengths at which Vladimir had gone to prepare for his guests were entertaining in their own right. It was the first time Vayne saw his servants at work, in all their loathsome efficiency. Then there was the sharp change in his demeanour, starting from the moment he kissed LeBlanc's hand, so that it was momentarily clear which one of the two mages was in charge.

Vladimir, despite having done volumes for Noxus, was still mostly a rising star and until recently, an outcast because of his crimes. He had no hope of siding with the military - the mistakes of his past were too great. However, he could rise to prominence by advancing his rank in the elusive Black rose society, theorized by many to be the true power behind Noxus' politics. LeBlanc was the matron of the secret cabal and it was is the aim of this evening to strengthen the bond between the Hemomancer and the Deceiver. And Vayne's role in all of this? She was to be the war trophy, little more than decoration on the table, meant to show off Vladimir's abilities. Like du Lomont, but lacking any agency. Nonetheless, she found observing the dynamics of the event rather entertaining, namely all the work the poor little inbred boy had put into being recognized.

The evening went on, with Shauna sitting next to her partner, being all ears in anticipation of something... anything mildly political being said. No such thing happened; but lots of wine was had and eventually Du Lomont was reasonably drunk; Vladimir's magic, however, allowed him control over his own metabolism and LeBlanc was LeBlanc and nothing could even scratch her surface.

"Vladimir, would you mind?" LeBlanc said, the seriousness in her voice indicating a change was about to take place

"Certainly."

It took merely a click of his fingers to send Vayne into a dark slumber. With du Lomont intoxicated and his toy switched off, Vladimir and LeBlanc could finally talk politics.

When Shauna's trance began to fade, the party had resumed as usual. The young marquis had sobered up, in contrast to the two mages who were laughing at God knows what. LeBlanc suddenly fell silent. Vladimir followed shortly, startled. The lady rose, her attire as grand as it was ethereal; it shifted and rearranged itself on her form, until the modest gown melted into a far more risque one with her ample chest almost spilling out of the corset. А fine necklace of metallic thorns and rose petals adorned her neck and the way it fell down her cleavage only served to accentuate her curves. Similarly, the small top hat and veil which decorated her head dissolved into smoke and Vayne for the first time felt that her face was as smooth, perfect and impenetrable as that of a doll.

Her form shifted and blurred and in a heartbeat she was sat on Vladimir's lap, stroking his face with the metallic jewellery that extended from her fingers. Never had his expression been so easy to interpret: his greedy eyes screamed "Yes, please" and he received his gratification shortly when LeBlanc pulled his chin closer and kissed his lips, driving her agile tongue into his welcoming mouth. Not much later du Lomont was behind his mistress, kissing and sucking on her elegant neck. When his fingers found the ties to her corset and started pulling at them absent-mindedly, Vayne decided to politely ask to leave the room. As if having felt her intentions, Vladimir broke the kiss, and, looking at LeBlanc, said:

“Matron, I have no doubts that this will be amazing, but I am no longer a single man.”

Vayne was disappointed he did not refer to LeBlanc by name; she would have loved to know if it was Emilia or Evaine that was sitting in the same room as her, soon to be naked; or maybe someone else? How many people were Leblanc? How many people had been LeBlanc, but had graduated into impersonating someone else, pulling strings behind the scenes and slowly guiding empires to their fall?

“Oh, she can join in if she pleases.” Replied the woman “But are we not too lewd for your fiancée?”

“Not at all” smirked the blood mage

A small gesture towards her, a flicker of magic in the air and Vayne’s body was shaken by an orgasm so divine her knees went soft and she found herself on the floor, struggling to catch her breath. This was the degree of control he had established over her, his arts woven so completely into her body. She blushed and moaned before the surprised eyes of her two spectators, managing to draw a gasp from du Lomont’s lips.

LeBlanc applauded the small demonstration and suggested the group moved to a place more fitting of their activities. Vladimir picked the still dizzy girl up and carried her to his bedroom, followed by the pair of excited guests.

“Shauna Vayne” said the young marquis, as if tasting the name” the League’s most desired virgo intacta. There is not a single man in Noxus who would not risk death for a night with her.“

They were expecting her to feel uneasy with the attention of three people focused solely on her, but Vayne could not care less. She had long let go of any sense of personal agency and autonomy. So when Vladimir placed her on the bed and three sets of fingers busied themselves with undressing her, she reciprocated. Bold, but submissive, she pulled LeBlanc into her embrace and kissed her, her first kiss with another woman. The Noxian lady's lipgloss complimented the taste of wine, still noticeable on her lips, and her kiss was similarly sweet and dizzying. She slid one still clothed leg between Vayne's thighs and the girl pressed against it, feeling herself flare up with arousal. The two men paused for a moment, enticed by the alluring sight. Then each busied himself with undressing one of the women. When Vayne was clad in nothing but a thin, black thong, du Lomont stole her lips from LeBlanc. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, his greedy hands roaming her body, lingering at her breasts to twist and squeeze the delicate nipples, until he earned a semi-pained moan. She felt him smile and reached to untie his hair, letting the black curls fall to his shoulders. She then disposed of the expensive shirt he was wearing, proceeding to caress his chest before breaking the kiss to look at him. Most of his chest and back were covered by intricate glyphs and tattoos, which served to compliment his handsome form, but also glimmered with magic.

"These repel blades and prevent stabwounds." he explained concisely "quite useful where I come from."

Noxians, Vayne sighed quietly to herself. In the background LeBlanc laughed sharply, the laugh quickly morphing into a scream of pleasure. Vladimir was entertaining her rather well. Du Lomont continued his assault on his partner's body, his pleasurable kisses often followed by bites. He placed her hand on his midsection and had her stroke the shaft through his clothes, until lust drove him to push down her head and make her suck. Shauna wrapped her lips around him obediently. After the harsh initial one, Vladimir had given her several proper lessons, with evident success, as eventually the young noble was gasping for breath. She felt a pair of lips pull down her thong, and then the same pair of lips on her wet folds. She moaned on du Lomont's erection, the vibrations almost causing him to lose it, and came soon after, losing focus on anything but LeBlanc's lips. 

Du Lomont turned her over on all fours and took her roughly. He forced her back to arch almost painfully by pulling her hair, and slammed himself into her in long, forceful strokes, watching with delight the impulses run through her body. This allowed Vayne to watch the spectacle at the other end of the bed, which intrigued her far more than her selfish, although experienced lover.

A pair of ethereal ribbons bound Vladimir's wrists to the bed, restraining him completely. He looked absolutely mad with desire, but unable - or forbidden - to do anything but receive LeBlanc's ministrations. The Deceiver herself was naked, except for the metallic clawlike jewelry on her fingers, which left a set of red, stinging lined on the mage's pale chest every time she ran her hand along it. She was sat on his lap, riding his painfully hard cock in agonizingly slow motions, and even though his breathing and mild blush betrayed that he was awfully, insanely close, when or whether he came was under the older woman's control.

The sight of her captor, restrained and submissive excited Vayne far more than she thought was possible. She came instantly when her eyes were laid on the sensual scene, and once again when LeBlanc came, digging her claws painfully into Vladimir's stomach, not failing to draw blood. The Noxian lady untied her desperate prey, and, after kissing his earlobe, whispered:

"I want to watch the three of you. Give me a good show."

Vladimir took a few seconds to calm himself down before joining the other couple. Du Lomont pulled out of the young woman, visibly close but determined to prolong the act, and the two men used the ribbons Vladimir had been bound with to tie Vayne's wrists to the roof of the bed. She was kneeling on the bed, her back straight and her thighs parted. She did her best to prepare for what was about to follow as the two cocks filled her. The two men pounded her hard, each at his own pace, the pain they inflicted on her face visibly pleasing the spectating LeBlanc. When her holes finally adjusted, Vladimir wrapped an arm around her neck, squeezing tight, until Shauna almost passed out. She trashed and fought the two men, but her movement, coupled with the involuntary tensing of her pelvic muscles, finally made them orgasm, one after the other. The mage released her neck, but left her tied to the bed.

"Is she going to be okay?" du Lomont asked, mildly pitying the girl

"She will wiggle out of it. She's pretty agile. " laughed the other man

LeBlanc doused the numerous candles with a single wave of her hand and, having orgasmed herself while watching the act, joined the two men in the bed.

"May I go to the bathroom?" asked Vayne

Her master allowed her. But after she managed to untie herself in the dark and left the room, her thoughts little to do with taking care of herself after the rough act. She ventured to the wardrobe and put oh the lightest, simplest clothes she could find, and then headed to the guestroom.

She moved quietly, blending in with the shadows, as some of Vladimir's formerly human slaves never ceased listening, hidden in drawers and chests anywhere in the mansion. But she was an expert in remaining undetected, and her nightvision - one of the few magical augmentations she had made to her body - was flawless. She quickly found du Lomont's coat, which he had left on his chair, and, almost shivering with hope, dug through its pockets. She found a heavy mechanical watch, its design mildly reminiscent of things she'd seen in Piltover. It had one strange property - despite the fact that the arrows were moving, the device did not tick. Vayne brought the object to her face, and, praying to every god she knew of, took a deep breath.

She was almost ready to scream in excitement as the familiar, although faint smell of magic flooded her nostrils. But not black magic, no: this was a hextech creation. Like a clock, the rusty cogs of her brain started ticking and rotating. The Night Hunter awoke within her, seeing an opportunity to triumph. In a way, she was still Vladimir's slave and beloved. But the enchanted clock engaged another part of her personality, which ran even deeper than her hatred for the impure: her love for systems, and specifically her enjoyment in the act of breaking them. 

She grabbed a dining knife and used the sharp tip of its blade to unscrew the bolts on the back of the watch. The back cover came off to reveal a complex mechanism which had very little to do with the clock mechanisms she had previously seen. She pried the tangled ball of cables and metal and looked at it carefully. She was sat there, inspecting the device for almost a minute until it dawned on her: it was a voice recorder.

Vayne was almost intoxicated with the feeling of power that washed over her. Finally, after all this effort, she had found a crack in the merciless Noxian system, a crack she could exploit to inflict significant damage. So she had not been the only one interested in eavesdropping whatever political secrets Vladimir and LeBlanc had to share that night. The man whose body was covered in anti-backstabbing protection had endeavored to stab a few backs on his own. The question Shauna briefly lingered on was who was she going to harm using her newfound knowledge - du Lomont, the flawless LeBlanc, or her sweet, beloved Vladimir? And the answer she came up with, was, of course, all of them.

She looked around for a convenient replacement for the clock's mechanism. She quickly found one of similar weight - a few heavy golden coins lay on the nearby table. She secured them in place using a piece of tissue and attached the panel back on the clock.

Then she found a convenient shadow near the bathroom door and blended into it, biding her time.

It had to happen eventually. Du Lomont was only human.

Eventually the young noble's steps echoed through the house. As he passed her by, Shauna leapt from her shadows; the man tried to fight, soon after realising who the attacker was. Watching her in the League, he had always wondered what her flexible, muscular body was capable of and if she could ever defeat him in a close fight. His answer came in that moment, when Vayne twisted his arm behind his back and pressed him to the floor. 

"Talk quietly and don't dare scream." she whispered "the walls have ears."

Du Lomont was an experienced liar, but Vayne managed to catch the shadow of guilt that crossed his face for a milisecond, before he returned to his senses. He confirmed her doubts by whispering:

"What is this about?"

"Your recording device. You betrayed LeBlanc."

"I don't have a recoding device..." then he almost bit his tongue trying not to scream when Vayne twisted his arm further.

"Stop playing dumb. Your watch."

"It's a present. If there's anything up with it, it's my uncle's fault."

"Should I show it to my fiancee then? Maybe he knows your uncle?" 

Her whisper was getting increasingly threatening, the pressure on his arm - increasingly painful. She could feel him budging. Hungover and in pain, he was not in the best of shapes for weaving elaborate lies.

"Please don't. You'll rip apart some very delicate alliances."

As much as she wanted to say "as if I care", Vayne lied through her teeth:

"If it's for the good of my beloved. The Black rose does not look kindly to traitors."

The confusion she saw on the lad's face was almost comical. In a way, she did love Vladimir, and as much as she hated that fact, it was proving extremely useful in the show she was trying to put out.

"You don't have to live with this freak. I can help you escape."

"You don't understand, do you? I'm free to go. I love him."

At this point du Lomont was convinced the blood mage had altered her mind beyond recognition - and he was positively terrified what this blood mage could do to him as soon as he found out.

"Banquet in a week. Who is coming?" she whispered

"Mostly mages and a few associated nobles."

"You including?"

"My family is the one organising it." he almost whimpered

Bingo, Vayne thought.

"You'll make sure one Noxian general attends the party. You'll make sure he has friends there, but not too many."

"But it's too late...."

"I don't bloody care."

"Fine, who?"

"Someone who's the right hand of Jericho Swain himself. Someone my beloved wants to replace. A fitting wedding gift, I figure."

The man nodded, getting the idea. 

"Will I get my watch back?" he asked finally

"At the event." Vayne replied

She let go of him and retreated to her small bedroom, locking the door. She did not get any sleep that night, bent on guarding her newfound treasure with her life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something quite funny happened. I sent this story to Riot and they enjoyed it so much they gave me RP xD   
> Expect VxV to become canon I guess (if you don't already think it is).

Some days later Vayne was in a dimly lit carriage on her way to the banquet. Du Lomont's watch was in her coat, although with small modifications. In the way a linguist studies a text in an unknown language, Vayne had carefully studied the recording mechanism, until she had determined which part precisely preserved the data. She had then replaced it with the most similar object she could find and returned it to the watch. This should keep the young nobleman busy, she thought, but just in case it did not, she had made sure the screws were almost impossible to remove.

Regardless of how much her dispositions had changed in the past weeks, she could not stop herself from scheming.

Vladimir was sat next to her, arms around her in the most romantic of ways. They had just finished getting dressed after a steamy act which had helped time pass immensely. Having lived with him, she could not help but notice how unperceptive he was; like most mages, he was stuck inside his own head and would rarely notice what was happening right before his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered while attempting to restore her hair its pre-sex condition. He was in one of his nice moods.

"I love you too," she said, briefly touching the pocked of her coat to see if the watch was still there.

The banquet was held in what could best be described as a palace, whose gardens were magically cultivated beyond sense; It was difficult to tell vegetation apart from the occasional stone benches, gazebos and fountains, as the materials seemed to intertwine and interchange one another in all sorts of ways: stone rosebushes with metal thorns would grow on soil seemingly covered in purple, strangely textured leaves. To put it simply, Noxian aesthetics were as bizarre as her people's sexual preferences.

Vayne did not disregard the strange vegetation and ran her fingers along the illogical plants as she passed them by, trying to decipher the strange combination of magical arts that sustained them.

The twisted wonderland extended into a richly muralled ballroom of a similar style. There what struck her was the way light would defy physics and pour, like a flowing liquid, on the floor of the chamber, but certain arches and corners were bathed in deep shadow. I must go there, her instinct beckoned.

She had grown up in palaces and ballrooms, but Demacia had a certain almost religious respect for the natural order of things. Noxus, seemingly in all ways, suffered from no such concerns.

In the end, of course, her marvelling at the structure and its grounds could in no way compare to the stares and sighs she was earning as she passed by. Despite being clad in a way that was very atypical for her, Vladimir had made sure she was very recognisable. She was the jewel at his side and the extravagantly dressed Noxians could recognize that from a mile away. Her partner made sure to introduce her to everyone who asked, and have her repeat her rehearsed replies and curtsies.

Du Lomont was among the crowd, switching between his lady LeBlanc, the servants' queries and all the guests that required his attention. He eyed Vayne from a distance, her desperately trying to communicate to him that she could not leave Vladimir's side without his permission. The man eventually got the hint and approached them, bowing politely.

"Master Vladimir," he said "may I borrow your lady for a moment?"

The mage was mildly confused, but agreed reluctantly. The woman felt her leash extend.

As she followed du Lomont up a staircase, she told him:

"You will need to distract him. I will take my time."

The man nodded and lead her to a corridor. He nodded towards the door at the end of it. A group of men were waiting by the door, presumably du Lomont's guards.

"The general is waiting for you in that room."

"Is he armed?"

"Perhaps. All he knows is that you requested an audience with him."

"So am I supposed to kill him with my charms then?" Vayne snapped.

"It's the best I could do with the time you gave me, woman. You're free to leave, but the watch stays with me."

"You'll need to arm me then. I might not defeat him in close combat, but anything ranged will do."

The noble nodded towards one of his henchmen. Vayne was given a small crossbow which was meant to be loaded manually. She only had one shot then. This was fine.

"The watch, Demacian."

She pulled the mechanism out of her pocket and gave it to him, stonefaced. She was then allowed to pass through the corridor and meet with her new target.

 

Darius, the Hand of Noxus, was sitting in a simple chair at the corner of the room. It was a large room, possibly intended for conferences, with a small terrace which overlooked the gardens. The general saw the crossbow in Vayne's hands, the mismatch between the weapon and her attire puzzling him. He rose and approached her, extending his hand for a handshake.

"Nice to finally meet you away from the fields, Shauna Vayne."

"Nice to meet you too, Major General."

"Why the crossbow? Poor craftsmanship."

"I'm supposed to kill you with it." she said and laughed quietly

He was even more confused when she cocked her head and observed the walls of the room like a cat chasing invisible mice. She disregarded him for a moment, focused entirely on roaming the chamber and peeking beneath the tables and chairs, opening the two large wardrobes and the numerous drawers. Eventually she caught a trace, her nostrils flared and her eyes became fixed on a certain point on the ceiling. She lifted the crossbow and shot.

"A recording device." she explained finally. "Out host seems to love them. We should be fine now."

She beckoned him to the terrace. Making sure there was no spying mechanism there, she started:

"Why did you agree to meet me then?"

"Rumors. I try to stay out of it, but when I learned that the last descendant of the Vayne bloodline had betrayed Demacia to share a bed with the enemy, I could not help but wonder."

"I betrayed my king and country? Is that what they say about me?"

"So it seems. Why else would you entertain his guests or dance with him in a Noxian ballroom?"

"Oh, I do love him. He's a remarkable man, accomplished so much for his age. It's a privilege to bask in his shine."

Darius himself had never possessed any glamor; he had despised the extravagant crowd even before his youth ended, which was many years ago. What he had was his worldly wisdom, his understanding of humans and the ability to lead and inspire. He instantly caught the flicker in Vayne's eyes, like a dying star, and answered with fatherly understanding. For a moment they had put their rivalry aside; they were friends.

"Magic is important to this state," he started, not bothered about his choice of words " but I, personally, never liked most mages. It is true that the Master Tactician of Noxus, Swain, is well-versed in the magical arts, but it is not what makes him who he is, and he is a fine leader above all. On the other hand, it is a great injustice that weaklings and inbred madmen get to walk this realm as if they were gods, because they had luck."

He waited for her to follow his lead.

"You think my beloved is a weakling then? In what way is he... weak?"

"Reckless. Impulsive. Most of all, a coward. He was weak since his very birth, a sickly child of degeneracy. Children like him do not reach their teens in today's Noxus, and he should not have; because for one reason or another, he killed two boys his age. One of them was my nephew. My rank in the military was too low back then, I practically had no political power. But I swore to hunt him down and I would have personally chopped off his head, had he not escaped. He returned, of course, years later. I ordered him dragged to my court and given a trial. He must have been no older than twenty that day, but with his patchy white beard, matted hair and filthy, gaunt face he looked like an old man. He was skin and bones too, and smelled like a dead goat. Could not pronounce his own name, or my name for that matter, but I asked him 'Why should I spare you?'. He looked at me with the eyes of a wild beast and the flesh of the two guards holding him melted right off the bones. Two good, honourable men died just so he could show off his power. I swung my axe at him and he dissolved into a red mist. That day I learned he feared no physical injury, so I was powerless against him. But I can tell you what he fears: he is afraid of his little world collapsing on him, the glamorous life he's built for himself in his endless vanity ending. If you find what he wants and take it away from him, if you halt his greedy climb towards the throne of Noxus, this will hurt him far more than any weapon."

Darius took a deep breath after his speech, seemingly angry at the images remembering Vladimir had invoked.

"He wants to kill you, you know. Take your place as the right hand of Swain."

"I have no doubt in that."

"Have you tried to sabotage him? To end his climb towards the throne?"

"I am no schemer, Vayne. But my master, and the mages, they seem to like him or at least see him as a necessary evil. I can't go against their will, at least not yet. After all, he resurrected Sion."

"What will he do if he fails in his pursuits?" she found herself asking that question almost against her will. As Darius exposed his murderous hatred, she felt herself becoming concerned about her lover. The older man saw that in her eyes and again, he understood.

"He will withdraw and run away in shame, like he did after he butchered my nephew. If he fails hard enough, the Black rose will come after him. He can't defeat them."

Vayne shut her eyes for a moment and strolled around the room. She was terribly torn between her schemes and her emotions. It took willpower to rise above her affection, to convince herself it was just a disease that would pass.

"Have other mages ever managed to remove his curses?" she asked "He's changed me."

"With great difficulty. You have to know blood magic to break it."

She thought for a moment, then took a deep breath and spoke:

"I can do it. I can hit him where it hurts. But right now and at least until I am cured, I cannot stand the thought of him dying."

"Just tell me what you need," smiled the veteran "You I can respect, Vayne. You have shown true strength and willpower. Were we not on opposing sides, I would offer you a place in Noxian command."

"I need an escort in and out of Noxus. A mage to fight him and the fastest horses you are willing to spare."

Darius nodded.

"When and where?"

"You will receive a letter. It might be anonymous. Be ready to assemble the group. Is this fine?"

"Yes."

"Another thing: what do you know of the du Lomont family?"

"They're the type of nobles I have been trying to remove from Noxus in the past years. Alas, they have the benevolence of Swain."

"Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Anything else?"

"Rich, maybe the richest in Noxus. Patrons of progressive trade, but triggered and came victorious in many civil wars in the past. Own lots of property."

"I might have invoked the anger of Aubert du Lomont, the young boy who probably negotiated your arrival. What will he do to me?"

"What did you do?"

"We had an agreement. I cheated. He will be waiting for me, armed, the moment I walk through this door. I was counting on Vladimir to defend me, but it might not work out."

"You don't need to tell me much. But just let me know, what does failing the agreement mean to him?"

"It might mean his death, if I play it well enough."

The veteran smiled, impressed. Suddenly realizing she could trust him, Vayne said:

"Listen, there is no doubt that you will leave this place alive. Basically, I caught du Lomont spying on the Black rose. The proof is buried near Vladimir's mansion. If my life is in danger, you will insist that you know the secret and threated to spill it."

"He will not kill you. His family owns prisons and is known for torturing the truth out of spies and hostages. He will try to interrogate you for the location of this proof."

"By magic?"

"No, by force."

"That is fine by me."

The man nodded.

"Leave now, General. They will come for me."

Darius shook her hand again, bowed and walked out of the room. Vayne sat on the chair he had previously occupied and, anticipating the arrest, played with the complex set of iron hairclippers in her hair. Eventually she felt a headache: Vladimir was calling her. Her heart sank with longing to see him again before departing for du Lomont's prison. She was sat there, imagining his lips on hers, the sensation almost real to her, when the group of men led by Aubert du Lomont stormed through the door, pointing crossbows and revolvers at her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets pretty intense here plotwise. Please let me know what you think!  
> Also, some of you might be puzzled by the events at the end of this chapter. It refers to a fan theory many, but not all are familiar with, look it up if you're interested.

They led her through a labyrinth of dungeons beneath the palace. In a way, the grounds under the structure were more massive than the structure itself. Du Lomont, busy with the banquet, had left seven of his men to escort her. They tied her eyes before they took her down the complex set of staircases, but Vayne had almost eidetic memory. Two hundred and four steps down, then sixteen to the right, then thirty to the right again. The dungeon mapped itself inside her head, the image somewhat augmented by the echoes on the walls. Her headache waxed during the entire walk, until, suddenly, it stopped. She welcomed the clarity, but wondered why Vladimir had chosen to release her. Was it the realisation that his lady had not left his side by her own will? Or maybe this far away, he no longer had any influence? She could only speculate how his evening was going.

The tip of a crossbow was pressed to the back of her neck, nudging her forwards. The walk must have lasted more than half a mile when they finally stopped. She could no longer feel the proximity of the crossbow; the only light that penetrated her blindfold came from a gas lantern, as the torches had not been lit. She heard someone put the lantern down and made a mental note of its location. 

“You’ll do well to cooperate, miss,” said one of the guards. “If you have any tools or weapons with you, please surrender them.”

His request was met by sneering and rude laughs by his comrades. The next thing she felt was a blade to her neck, and her blindfold was removed.

“Listen, lassy, we’re going to strip you and if we find anything out of the ordinary, oh, you will scream for your freak to come and save you. Clear?”  
She nodded. Seven barely articulate brutes. She was trying to tell who was dumber - du Lomont or the dumbest of these men. She clenched her teeth as fat, rough fingers pulled at the ties of her corset, and then another set undid its hooks. A man removed the clips in her hair, roughly, yanking strands of hair together with the jewelry. Once the steel-banded corset was put away, the ball gown came off easily. A brute bent her over the table, dealing away with the rest of her clothes.

Surprisingly, one of the men was against his comrades’ advances.

“Dammit, Tarill, girl’s probably pregnant, ain’t it typical of newlywed nobles?”

“Shut it and hold the crossbow to ‘er head, or you’re next.”

Hesitant, the guard obeyed. The one pressing Vayne against the table proceeded to undress her. He’d managed to wrestle her into the right position, to almost stand at the right angle to take her- she gave him that. But as he let go of one of her hands to unzip, a window of opportunity appeared. Trained to grasp every such opportunity from the rift, Vayne stretched and swiftly grabbed the lantern, flinging it at the man’s chest. An explosion of fire, and then all light was gone. The sane guard had hesitated before shooting her - and it was all the help she needed to escape. Quick and agile, she slid out of the brute’s grasp, grabbed a crossbow and tumbled behind a set of shelves.

They fired shots at her, of course, but they had none of her precision or speed, not to mention she was the only one in the room who could see in the dark. The entire skirmish lasted no more than a few seconds, in which she fired bolt after bolt, each ending a life, and tumbled to a different weapon rack to pick up a new weapon.

She spared the man who tried to be civil with her. Terrified, he stumbled over the corpses of his comrades, before managing to escape the room. She followed him, not taking long to catch up.

“You,” she whispered, crossbow directed towards him “Come with me.”

She dragged him, feral and only clad in darkness, and threw him in the first cell she could find, locking the door with the set of keys she picked from one of the dead men’s pockets.

One of the shelves contained a pile of prisoner clothes. None of the sets were new or particularly clean, but they were comfortable enough to serve her purpose. She put the smallest set on, picked up whatever useful objects she could find in the room, and ventured deeper into the dungeon.

Vayne knew full well that at this point Vladimir could still be above her, in the ball chamber, trying to sort out whatever mess she’d left behind her. Her death was not an impossible outcome, were she to appear before his eyes.

So she went exploring. The map of the dungeon grew larger and more complete inside her head, but once she found the warden’s office, once she picked the lock, a new mystery, vast and intriguing, appeared before her.

A map of the dungeon lay inside the desk’s drawers, a comprehensive guide to all the corridors and exits. The map itself smelled of magic, as if there was a layer of illusion glistening on its surface.

“This is not the true image of the map,” Vayne murmured under her nose.”It’s meant to mislead any thieves and regular folk. If only I could break the enchantment…”

There must be missing passageways and corridors, she realised. As she tried to compare what was on the paper with the map she’d carefully drafted in her head, she found out she had passed by at least one hidden door. The way it was all masked was almost magnificent, the creator of this map having drawn the angles between the visible corridors a bit too sharp or a bit too obtuse… so that seemingly everything fit in place, but in truth there was a secret tucked between the labyrinth’s walls.

She was tapping nervously on the paper, annoyed at the lack of clarity. She could normally bypass illusions, at least to some degree, but not when they obscured maps or writings. She grabbed a pencil and drafted every secret corridor’s location on the map, trying to redraw it to match her memory. When she was satisfied, she picked the document and headed out the door.

The first hidden corridor was a dead end. So was the second. She ventured deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, sneaking through the rooms in complete silence.

It was on her fifth attempt that something felt out of order. She must have wasted more than an hour and walked for miles. Another dead end, Vayne thought initially, but as she turned around on her heels and attempted to walk away, a familiar smell caressed her nostrils.

“These stones are enchanted,” she whispered to herself again. “Please, let this be an illusion.”

So she did what she had been taught to do when it came to illusions. It was a respectable school of magic, of course, capable of manifesting great results with little effort, and it was invaluable in social settings. But it was also the only one a non-mage could hope to break, with practice, willpower and meditation.

Vayne closed her eyes, trying to isolate herself from her surroundings. She faced the dead end wall and took a deep breath, trying not to register the mild scent of magic that came through. As her breathing steadied, she retreated further into her inner world. Sinking deeper, she was no longer in the pitch-dark, damp dungeon. She imagined herself in an open field, bound only by the skies above her. As the seconds passed, she could feel the grass caressing her ankles and the smell of herbs in her nostrils.  
Shauna Vayne took a large, relaxed step through the field of grass, and then another. She walked long past the time she should have encountered the wall, until she tripped under a real, physical object and had to open her eyes.

A victorious smile graced her lips. She had successfully passed through the illusionary wall and finally found herself in a hidden corridor.

Ahead of her there was a dark staircase which spiraled down, further into the ground.

She took the forty-four steps down, alert more than ever in her life. As she found herself in a long corridor, a familiar voice made her hair stand on end.

“Shauna. Go back, my love. Please.”

She turned around, terrified. It was Vladimir, standing behind her, dressed in his ball attire, yet mildly disheveled, as if he had been in a fight. He looked absolutely furious and she could hear it in his voice - the gentler it sounded, the madder he was. I’m good as dead, she thought, as the familiar weakness and migraine overcame her senses.

There was only one escape, desperate as it was. How had she not heard him? Meditate, breathe steadily, she thought, imagine the meadow he made love to you on.

And as she sank deeper into her inner world, the pain faded. It dawned on her then, that this dungeon was protected not by doors or sentries, but by powerful illusions, the illusion of her furious master among them.

It required heroic willpower to grasp into her fleeting daydream, to alter it in a useful way. She imagined the corridor, the same as it was before the powerful illusion had appeared, and crawled through it. She lost grasp of her mind a few times, and every time she heard angry, hectic steps approaching her from behind.

The woman dared open her eyes only when her head collided with a thick wooden door. She peered into the lock and realised that with luck and concentration she could probably break it.

“Vayne. Did you have to do this? I was going to release you tomorrow. Did you have to stir up all this trouble? You realize I cannot let you go now.”

“As if you were going to let me go anyway,” she replied to the illusion, while straightening the hairclips she had carried with her.

“I was, I really was, woman. The question is, were you going to want to leave me?”

“Probably.”

Migraine, powerful as thunder. For a moment, she dropped the hairclips. When she came to her senses, she renewed her grasp on her meditation.

“You don’t exist. Get out. It’s only the door that is real.”

The door. The lock. It was all that mattered. His voice could still be heard behind her, but it was weak and easy to ignore. As the metal rods found the mechanism of the lock, nothing could break through Vayne’s concentration. The lock rotated and the door swung open.

With barely any strength left, Shauna Vayne crawled to the next room.

In an instant, her lover was gone.

She lay on the floor for a few minutes, breathing heavily. A very real, exertion-caused headache was threatening to drain the little energy she had left.

Then she lifted her head and saw the guardian of the next room. It was a large troll, the type you could find in Freljord. Luckily, it looked docile and was studying her with interest. The smell typical of these creatures overpowered the Demacian’s nostrils. Disgusting, she thought.

She bypassed the beast and went on to pick the lock at the other end of the room. The creature made no attempt to attack her, but instead stared at her intently, although its eyes betrayed no intelligence.

As she was almost done picking the lock, the troll suddenly became aggressive; it smashed its fists on the stone floor and stood up, rushing towards Vayne. She leapt to the side. It could only go as far as the thick steel chain of its leash allowed. The links of the chain rattled as it extended.

The Hunter lifted her crossbow.

“Back off,” she growled, hoping the beast would understand.

It did. Folding its hands in front of its massive, wart-covered body, the creature seemed to be begging.

“What are you doing?” she said, her disgust evident.

The troll gestured towards its nose, and then towards Vayne. It was trying to communicate, although the only sounds that came from it were muffled growls.

So she breathed; she smelled the troll’s unpleasant odour, the damp dungeon, and the overly sweet smell of illusion. Initially, she thought the deceptive magic was only constrained to the previous room, but as she explored further, she concluded otherwise: the troll itself reeked of illusion.

“What are you? Are you even real?”

The creature nodded. Its hands beckoned her forward.

“You want me to touch you?”

Another nod. This time, the troll covered its eyes, the gesture clear to her. It struck Vayne that it was perfectly aware of its state, and incredibly intelligent, despite the lack of rationality in its eyes.

It was not a guardian. It was a prisoner.

So Vayne closed her eyes and sank into another meditative state. Stretching her arms forwards, she took careful steps. As her fingers finally touched something, it was not warts or stone scales; she felt skin, human skin, tender and young.

She gasped in surprise and adjusted her thoughts to it. Her fingers found the head of the prisoner, and she felt thick, straight hair and beard under her touch, as if the man had been left in this dungeon for many months. She explored his face, and found that his features were strong and noble.

At this point she lost grasp on her meditation and opened her eyes. She saw the troll again, but she was no longer afraid.

“Who are you?”

Determined to discover the prisoner’s identity, she renewed her concentration. Her hands roamed the man’s form, discovering that he was tall and strong; she felt leash marks on his back, as if he had been whipped mercilessly. When she touched his lips, she found out they were nailed shut.

She opened her eyes once more.

“Are you from Freljord?”

His stature and features reminded her of Northern men; but he shook his head.  
“Are you from Demacia?”

A nod. This was getting truly interesting.

“Are you a nobleman? Do I know you?”

A nod, the most enthusiastic one so far.

And that was when the truth struck her. It came as a shock, initially, then she decided she had to check again. After all, the man could be lying. Renewed concentration, hands on the man’s face. He had lost weight compared to the how he was when she last saw him; the abundant beard was getting in the way of her feeling his chin and the shape of his jawline. But there was no mistake.

“I have to free you. I have a map, we can escape.”

He shook his head.

But Vayne was so confident in her abilities to break the lock of the steel collar binding him to the wall. She stood up, walked behind him and attempted to pick the lock. As soon as she applied pressure, however, a spark of electricity ran through the metal and her fingers. She jumped back in pain. The prisoner shook too, visibly even more hurt than her.

The lock then disappeared, seemingly melting into the collar. Vayne hoped that this would be an illusion, that she would find the lock elsewhere on the collar, but her efforts proved fruitless. She walked back and forth between the wall and the man, checking every link of the chain for weakness. Teary eyed and defeated, she kneeled before the bound man and embraced him.  
“I’m sorry. I’ve failed you, your majesty. I cannot free you.”

He did not seem surprised in any way, probably having tried dozens of times himself. He lifted his hand and pointed her towards the door. He wanted her to leave, to run back to Demacia.

“I need answers first,” she said.

He nodded.  
“If you’re here, captured and imprisoned, then who, for fuck’s sake, rules Demacia?”

He pointed towards the door. Vayne thought for a moment in an attempt to decipher his sign. Illusion. Powerful illusion magic.

“LeBlanc?”

A nod. Vayne’s eyes blinked in disbelief.  
“Is this a Black rose plot?”

Another nod. Oh dear, Vladimir had a lot to answer for… if he knew any of this.

“Why are you held here? Is this LeBlanc’s property?”

An uncertain nod. He lifted his finger.

“One. One LeBlanc.One of the LeBlancs is a Du Lomont?”

Yes. It was all so clear now. It explained the benevolence of the Black rose towards the family, and why they had been spared from Darius’ attack against the corrupt nobility of Noxus. It explained the seemingly undeserved ties Aubert had with LeBlanc and Vladimir. Either he was in an incesturous relationship with his sister…

… or his sister was the current ruler of Demacia, disguised and Jarvan the Fourth, while the real king rotted away in her dungeon. It explained so much of Demacia’s most recent political moves as well.

“Does she have the key?”

Another nod.

Vayne cursed under her breath, teary eyed, realising the full depth of his despair. But her king had no tears left; he sat still in her arms, steadfast and stoic, until her sobs faded. Then he pushed her away and gestured towards the door.  
“I will come back for you, Your Majesty. I will free you. I will rip out Jericho Swain’s heart, and I will bring it to you.”

And she left, making haste towards one of the dungeon’s exits.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final sex scene for the fanfic. Disturbing, yet not what you'd expect.

She managed to escape.

Her map, the map she had found while scouring the dungeon, was detailed enough to show the exit that led out of the castle, to a small cave which surfaced in the nearby woods. After three weeks of perpetual captivity and slavery, Shauna Vayne was finally free.

Regardless, she was not yet ready to celebrate. She hid, avoiding main roads, travelling mostly at night, always in the right direction, hunting, stealing food and sleeping in the open. Her mind was a mess, the anger at what the Black rose had accomplished never quite fading in her heart. And yet  what she found even more disturbing were the clearly defined withdrawal symptoms she was experiencing. More than once she found herself missing Vladimir, wishing she was still with him, that she had not escaped. Then the memory of her king’s sealed lips as he was bound like a beast to the stone walls overtook her, and she hated herself for ever thinking about the blood mage in a positive light.

Other than the rough conditions, her journey was uneventful. It took days, but she reached Demacian borders.

 

…

 

Vayne had never had many friends, but the few ones she had, together with her relatives and some nobles who just wanted the best for one of Demacia’s heroes, did what they could to help once her arrival became public. There was a certain secrecy involved, and the Night Hunter had to keep a low profile and stay out of the League for a while. But everyone understood.

She was given the best of medical care, and the best spellbreakers do deal with all the enchantments, big and small, which Vladimir had woven into her. In the end they assured her that he would could no longer control her bloodstream and nervous system, unless he managed to touch her again. But when she asked if they could do anything about the disturbing attraction to the black mage, which still lingered, evading all her attempts to chase it away, they shook their heads and suggested she found a therapist. She snorted and retreated to her quarters.

 

…

 

Eventually her muscles ached for practice, so she rejoined the League. It was the only place she felt she belonged, where she received the adoration of millions without having to show any empathy or practice her laughably poor social skills.

It also gave her a chance, however small, to encounter Vladimir again. Back in the days before she joined, he used to be a big deal on the Fields, having made a lot of his fortune from matches. Eventually, however, he felt the games became repetitive, the magic he was allowed to use - boring, and there were only so many blood puns he could come up with to entertain the audience. It was customary and a great honor for senior League champions to accept handicaps (like a superior player does in some versions of chess), and he accepted many before he withdrew into obscurity.

That did not mean he had completely withdrawn from the League, but he would appear in a match, albeit rarely, to have a good laugh with whoever happened to be on his team. After Vayne rejoined, however, his interest was renewed, as if he was trying very, very hard to be matched in a game against her.

He managed eventually. Even though strategically his location was on the other end of the map, every time he could, he would teleport close to Vayne’s area of operation and signal his teammates to hound her.

She evaded him the first time and the second one, but on the third, bitter and annoyed, she ran off into the safety of the nearby trees. Of course, the crimson mist followed her, and as he re-materialised, his expression was one of murderous rage. She fired bolt after bolt at him, knowing that on the rift he could not regenerate as rapidly as in life; silver pierced his magnificent armor and she could have inflicted significant damage, had the white strings of spider silk not pulled her crossbow away from her; with her characteristic, unnatural steps, Elise, a Black rose associate, walked into view.

“Oh, is your little club angry at me now? Did I ruin your super secret party?” Vayne hissed, annoyed at how they were completely neglecting strategic feasibility to ruin her game.

“Something like that,” replied another familiar voice.

Katarina, another famed Noxian, blinked into view, the tip of her dagger right against Vayne’s neck. The assassin looked at her, then at the blood mage, and reading his murderous gaze, she stepped back.  
  
“Fine, but just this once,” she said.

Vladimir thanked her and bowed gently, before, surrounded by a whirl of crimson magic, yanked every ounce of lifeforce out of his prey. The laws of the League prevented real, final death, but the vanquished experienced some of the agony, and finally, the calmness of it. As her blood escaped through the pores of her skin, Vayne understood why he wanted to release her - he wanted her back in the League, where he could kill her again and again, an experience he seemed to find as sexual as taking her.

…

 

There was one thing she needed to do before her life resumed as usual. She wrote to Darius and the general did not disappoint: he swiftly assembled a band of mercenaries lead by a rogue sorceress called Yvonne, which met Vayne at a village near the border. They rode through the autumn mists that same day, aiming to retrieve the objects she had buried near Vladimir’s mansion during her captivity. That included du Lomont’s recorder, but also a set of things, big and small, she could use to blackmail the Hemomancer.

Vayne could tell by the unnatural silence in the woods and they were expected. She looked carefully, searching for birds or critters that would stare at them for far too long, or that would move in strange ways. She shot the ones she saw, but doubtlessly missed many, because, as she dug out her hidden stash of stolen objects, she heard the familiar voice:

“Just answer me. Why are you here? What are you trying to retrieve?”

They panicked and rode out of the woods as fast as possible, and as direct moonlight shone on the road, they saw something even more terrifying: a crimson mist, vast and turbulent, was fast approaching from behind them.

Vayne instantly realised that the efforts of the spellbreakers had not born that much fruit. She felt intense weakness the moment she laid eyes on the creeping clouds;  blood dripped from her nose, from the corners of her eyes, it pooled beneath her skin and escaped from under her nails. Her beloved was trying to kill her, and given enough time, he would succeed.

She had no strength fight him off and thanked the gods Yvonne, hooded and seemingly only slightly affected by the presence of the red mist, was sat behind her, in charge of the horse.

“Blood magic is an ancient art, one that may have predated our current civilisation. Vladimir bears the power of his ancestors, and may transmute the lives of his subjects to amplify his spells,” Vayne had explained earlier to the band.

It was at that moment when they realised what she had been talking about. Each of the eight horses they rode reacted to the endless stream of magic from the red mist; the weakest one slowed down, scared and disoriented. As the ethereal wave of crimson reached it, the animal disintegrated under its touch, shortly followed by its terrified rider. The storm advanced, even more furious than before.

“Flamethrowers!” yelled Yvonne.

The two men closest to the fog unleashed a stream of fire at it; the mist halted behind them, quickly finding alternative routes, until it was approaching the band from left and right.

Standing on the saddle, Yvonne weaved a spell. Her robe was shivering with magical energy.

As the sorceress released her incantation, a whirlwind escaped from her open palms. It grew in size and power, until it swept behind the group, halting the mist and drawing it towards its center.

This gave the riders some time to recover; they rode into the woods and were almost sure they’d lost the pursuer, when Vayne’s agony returned.

“He’s here,” she whispered weakly.

The trees were slowing him down, but there was no doubt he’d caught on once the pine needles gleamed crimson.

“There’s a lake nearby,” said one of the mercenaries.

They rode to the shores, waiting for the mist to reach the vast body of water. The animals galloped in the shallow waters until the sorceress was ready to release her next spell.

The lake boiled and shimmered. Its waters rose to march against the mist, and clashed with it just yards from the mercenaries. They lost another man there and then, when another steed lost its sanity and lagged behind, dooming the rider. But the rest survived and as they retreated further from the lake, they saw the crimson cloud shrink into a humanoid shape. Vayne felt her weakness recede and saw the bleeding had stopped: she had won.

 

…

  


In the end, when she came back from her adventure, Shauna Vayne could not deny that she’d acquired some of Vladimir’s characteristics, like his terrible, sadistic smugness in victory. Sitting in her house, sharing a drink and celebrating with Yvonne and the surviving mercenaries was not enough for her: she had to venture into the Institute of War and see the Hemomancer’s face once the depths of his failure had been revealed to him.

It was, plain and simple, the most convenient place to encounter him without worrying for her safety. Humanoid champions and summoners were allowed to roam the facilities in between matches, but they were never, not even for a second, free of the powerful magic of the place. It did not permit magic more powerful than simple utility, and would reverse any injury, fatal or otherwise. Most importantly, death was banned from the halls of the Institute.

The measures had taken a decade and incredible effort to implement, but none of the human or humanoid champions in the League were there for their cool temper, so there was no doubt in their necessity.

Vladimir was not expecting her. She stormed into his quarters, a small and rather basic apartment, and found him sharing a cup of tea with Katarina, both still clad in their battle outfits.

(Again, hundreds of hours of work by the summoners had permitted champions to enter battle in impractical outfits without feeling constrained in any way.)

The red-headed assassin giggled at the sight of her and despite Vladimir’s silent protest, walked through the door, leaving him alone with his arch-nemesis.

“Well,” started Vayne ”did you figure out what I took from your grounds?”

“Of course I did. That meddlesome kid spilled everything.”

“Aubert? Poor lad, so interested in what his big sister was plotting, yet lacking even a fraction of her intelligence…” she stopped for a moment to taste his futile anger. ”What has befallen him? Will Emilia du Lomont go punish the brat?”

She did not know if the du Lomont Deceiver was Emilia or Evaine, she simply chose the one which sounded better. Judging by Vladimir’s expression, she had gotten it right.

“What else do you know?” he asked.

“A lot. And yet not enough. You’ll tell me everything, darling.”

That word, ‘darling’. The nail in the coffin.

“I don’t know how aware you are, but at present I am as good as dead. I took the blame for your reckless prying, and quite honestly it was my fault. I should have turned you into a brainless sex doll the moment you tried to escape. That Katarina du Coteau that just left, you think she was here to have a friendly chat with me? She is following me, Shauna. She’s a far more lethal assassin than you, and unlike you, she is not burdened by a moral code.”  
Vayne had to bite her lip to not burst into laughter. Of course he was exaggerating. He wasn’t in nearly as much trouble as he could be if she decided to spill everything she knew to her superiors or to his.

An image of Jarvan crossed her mind, her wondering what her king was doing as they spoke. Anger washed through her, and she spoke:

“So this is the fall of the great Hemomancer, then. I guess my hunt was a success after all.”

She turned on her heels and headed for the door.

“Shauna, wait.”

He followed her, a his hand around her wrist. Vayne turned around.

“Please, please don’t do it. It would mean war. How many deaths are you willing to cause?”

In this he was right, but his pleases rang hollow. The woman suddenly felt intoxicated on the feeling of power. ”You learn to play with your food,” she had heard him say once.

“Fine. I won’t say anything else. If you beat me in a fist fight.”

His white eyebrows moved in confusion.

“Shauna, I am no bruiser…”

But before he had finished, she landed a blow on his stomach, so fierce he lost his breath. He attempted to defend himself, but in the time his fingers formed fists and swung in her general direction, the agile girl was behind him, landing fast, painful blows. She tried to be gentle and he was legitimately trying, but he was lacked the coordination and dexterity to fight her, and in the Institute he was unable to use any magic. His height was more of a hinderance than an advantage against a small and fast opponent, and his beautifully developed muscles were just for the show, his inexperience stopping him from utilizing their strength. Sure, he could probably defeat an average man if he tried, but Shauna Vayne was way out of his league.

She pushed him onto the bed on the other end of the room.

“Stay down,” she said.

Vayne pulled a dagger from her boot, and pressed it against the aching man’s throat. She then straddled him on the bed, letting out a surprised gasp as she felt the stone-hard erection beneath her. His eyes betrayed nothing but all-consuming shame.

“Leave me be, woman,” Vladimir whined.”None of this would have happened if you had just left me be…”

“Don’t try anything stupid,” she interrupted him.

She cut through the fabric of the purple hood he was wearing, removing the cloth and letting his beautiful hair fall freely. She then butchered his gorgeous robes and used the scraps to tie his wrists to the frame of the bed. His erection only got harder as she did it.

The woman then got up and proceeded to undress herself, the sight of her body no less arousing to him than the first time he saw it. Finally, she pulled his trousers down to his knees and took him in her hand, her eyes dim with desire. She wondered if she could still take him.

Vayne straddled him again, feeling him slide inside her. The mage let out a small moan as the thrill of unwelcome delight spread through him.  
“Please, please stop,” he begged.

He was so beautiful when he was terrified, Shauna realised.

“Stop what?” she asked, making a few energetic movements up and down his stone-hard shaft.

“I’m done with you, woman. You’re insane.”

She disregarded his protests and continued her play, until, voluntary or not, his hips started moving beneath her. Furious, she shoved the dagger between his sensually parted lips, pressing the tip against the gums of his back teeth.  
“Don’t you dare move,”she ordered calmly” and don’t you dare come, either. You will beg me if you’re close.”

Vladimir nodded. She hesitated before removing the dagger, watching the sides of the blade press against his seductive lips. She remembered all the filthy things he’d done to her mouth and shivered in arousal.

Vayne rode her still (yet tense) humiliated subject until she felt the almost forgotten thrill of an orgasm wash through her, the tensing of her walls drawing involuntary gasps from her prey. She let herself gasp and moan, knowing how much he enjoyed hearing it, and when it was over, she looked at him again. The man was putting heroic efforts into not orgasming. If only his fistfighting was as good as his fucking, she thought and smirked.

“Sweetie,”she started, still riding him rhythmically “ Tell me, what have the consequences of your failure been so far? I want to know what’s going through your head.”

He looked at her, the humiliation crushing him, and said:

“I lost some wealth and property. I lost my matron’s trust. It will be years before I can regain my previous position.”

But it ran deeper, they both realised it. If everything Vayne had learned was to leak, Noxus would send their most powerful mages and hunters to kill him. He would not escape, and if he died, the ancient art of Hemomancy would die with him. She understood his love and devotion to his craft, he saw it as a rare and beautiful tradition, which could be erased, all because of his foolishness. His ancestors, all the great blood mages in history, were probably screaming at him in his head as she rode him, calling him a disgrace and a failure. And so he was; with one reckless move, he was about to bury millennia of research, and all the precious hidden knowledge in his head would never see the light of day.

Then there was everything Darius had spoken of. The poor, sickly outcast was visible in his eyes. A decade ago Vladimir had returned to Noxus, hungry for the power and glamour he could previously never have. Through persistence and hard work, he had acquired his own mansion and a nobleman’s title.

“Tell me, would you rather die than have to live in the woods again, in hiding?” she asked, fingers grasping his chin.

He was in some sort of stupor, fighting inner battles or trying to zone out, Vayne could not quite tell.  
  
“I don’t know,”he replied.

“Sad little king of a sad little hill,” Vayne smiled. “Tell me, how will it feel when your castle collapses?”

She didn’t care for his answer. She rode him until she came, again and again, rotating her hips around him, until his body could not handle anymore. Degraded and crushed, he begged her to allow him his release. Vayne listened to the sweet sound of his voice, then shoved the blade in his mouth again, and said:

“I will let you come, darling. There’s just one thing I require. Tell me about your parents. Honestly.”

That very moment she knew she’d dug her nails into a deeper, more grievous wound than before. He lay like an open book before her, and she could feel the pain in his voice as he calmed himself and spoke:

“My mother was a beautiful woman, and of noble descent as well, not to mention her intelligence. And she knew all of that, she was a narcissist. She had a son, as beautiful and brilliant as her. So she slept with him.”

“Is incest legal in Noxus?”

“It is, as long as no children are born from it. Most of the time, of course, people disregard that. They keep quiet about their transgression and nobody ever notices. But with me, it was kind of obvious.”

A sickly, psychopathic albino, Vayne thought, of course people would notice.

“I was not even allowed to carry my mother’s name,” he continued. ”She called me simply Vladimir and left me with some relatives, only interfering by funding my life. That’s it.”

She cut his restraints and allowed him to finish. They rolled over, with Vladimir now on top, and making sure she had her last bit of pleasure, he came, the word “please” on his lips, followed by a low, exalted scream, the sexiest sound Vayne had ever heard.

He collapsed in a pile of shame and ecstasy, disturbed at the fact that this had been some of the best sex he’d ever had. He kissed his lover and held her, until he realised he had not had enough. So they did it again, strangely happy and tender, and afterwards got dressed and parted in silence.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to this story. Hope you enjoyed!

Some days later Vayne was sitting at her desk at her villa, taking a moment to enjoy her efforts finally paying off. Her study was spacious, yet felt cluttered from all the objects seemingly in disarray. Piles of books covered the shelves, secrets encoded in the order of their titles, whiteboards with mysterious writings littered the floor and there seemed to be discarded sheets of paper everywhere. What at first glance appeared as chaos was in truth Shauna Vayne’s way of keeping information hidden in plain sight.

She feasted her eyes on her most treasured possession. A collection of wax seals lay on her desk, some of the seals stolen, others - careful replicas of the ones used by some very important people. Whenever she had a new replica made, Vayne would order her craftsmen to shape the handle into a figure which reminded her of the owner. She had more than thirty seals at this point, and they lay face down on a stand, somewhat resembling pawns on a chessboard.

She had four new ones, exact copies of what she’d seen in Vladimir’s mansion. As she looked at the wooden handles, shaped to resemble a lone tower on a hill, she thought they all looked a bit too phallic.

Vayne had, however, deciphered the simple code of their use. The arrangements they were placed in encoded the purpose and the right way to read the letter. Unfortunately, the Black rose seemed to communicate using a complex mathematical encryption. To decipher the letters she’d managed to glimpse and then secretly reproduce from memory, Vayne had to pay a fortune to use one of Piltover’s massive computing machines. But there was no rush.

The sound of large wings flapping drew her attention to her bird pen, which was atop the highest (and only) tower of her residence. She rushed up the stairs, passing by all the strange birds she used to send false letters to various kingdoms: pigeons for Demacia, ravens for Noxus (she only had one) and hawks for Freljord. She gasped in surprise as she saw the bird sitting on her window pane.

A raven, far too large for its species, with blue-black plumage and a powerful, chipped beak, yet what instantly betrayed its identity was the three pairs of red, demonic eyes. It was Swain’s bird, Beatrice, and it clutched a letter with its talons.

Vayne carefully reached to take the letter, but the animal pulled back.

“No,” said the raven.”We will negotiate first.”

“Fine,” the woman replied, doing her best to hide how surprised she was.

Beatrice flew into the room, picking a comfortable spot to perch on.

“Jericho Swain, High Commander and Master Tactician of Noxus sends his regards to you, Shauna Vayne.”

“Shauna Vayne, Night Hunter of Demacia, sends her regards to him,” she replied, somewhat annoyed at the formalities.

“He would like to challenge you to a duel of wits, resourcefulness and strategy.” 

“My schedule is busy enough,” Vayne stated.”What incentive do I have to accept?”

“Victory would mean the opportunity to win back your king’s freedom.”

“And defeat?”

“No harm will come to you from our hand or talon. But the enemies you make as you play the game may be your undoing.”

So the usual deal, Vayne thought, except at least she didn’t have to worry about Swain for a while.

“Why are you doing this?”she asked.

“You were given a test and you passed it. I want you to cleanse my court of weakness and stupidity.”

Wait a minute, Vayne thought. Too many questions.

“And how would I do that?”

“By eliminating whoever stands in your way.”

Of course. The Noxian way - only the strongest survive.

“What is this test you referred to?”

“This is how I assess all of my disciples. I create conditions for strife, and I set up a battle of power and ingenuity. The victor gets to advance.”

She noticed the bird had stopped talking about Swain in third person. How curious.

“I am not your disciple, Noxian.”

“You are entitled to your opinion. I, however, handed the information of Vladimir’s location and habits to you, and thus you owe the events in the past month to me. He failed and you succeeded.”

“Why did he fail?”

“He thought with his cock. This is unacceptable for the position he was fighting to occupy, and he will be punished.”

Oh.

“How is he going to be punished?” Shauna asked. 

Beatrice paused. 

“We have decided to be merciful.”

“So he will be executed?”

“He will live… until the next Hemomancer is chosen and trained. You should make use of that. He is your strongest pawn in my court, the most well-positioned one, even after the blow he has suffered.”

“I have no doubt in that. But he will rip my arteries apart the moment he sees me outside of the League.”

“I have forbidden him to harm you in any way.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, realising any additional information they shared would be a handicap in their game.

“Do you accept my challenge then, Shauna Vayne?”

“I do.”

“Then you may read the letter.”

Having said that, Beatrice carefully placed the rolled papyrus in Vayne’s open palm. Shauna broke the six seals, their purpose still unclear to her, and before she could read anything, a small object rolled from the paper. She caught it in mid air, examining it briefly. It was a beautifully crafted metal rose, with black hematite petals. She could use it as a brooch if she wanted. 

The papyrus had a single word on it, handwritten, in an imperfect style which, however, betrayed extreme intellect. It said simply: 

_WELCOME_

 Vayne turned back to where Beatrice had perched. The bird had dissolved into thin air.

 


End file.
